There Is Always A Way
by Nytngayl
Summary: As he saw her fall lifeless, his life in turn did the same. With just his children, Harry can't stop thinking about 'what ifs' and 'maybes'.   Warning: Lots of fluffyfluff and mushymush. Eventual SS/HP.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: **As much as I would like to own Harry Potter, I don't. As much as would have LOVED it for Ms. J.K. Rowling to place both Gryffindor and Slytherin men together, she had not. No, in all the conspiracy of things, I have done what others have also and nabbed Ms. J.K. Rowling's characters and is now in the process of making them do what I want them to do...or..trying to at least. It is a very hard task indeed to ask much of a dead man, you know. Very hard.

At that, I leave you with this story, terrible as I might say. A short beginning to what's coming. This is a first attempt at...anything really. Wouldn't be too surprised on how little it'll get out there.

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><p><strong>THERE IS ALWAYS A WAY<strong>

The winds' strength caught up in his billowing robes, making them flap loudly as they whipped back and forth behind him. Stubbornly, Harry wiped away the oncoming tears behidn his glasses, not wanting to spend another day dawdling on the past, and wiping the tear-stained glasses of his. Severus Snape had been innocent. All those years torturing Harry by taking house points, admitting him into detention one after the other, causing him, Harry Potter, to lose his cool on even the smallest of things. At that, Harry had to smile and even allowed a single tear to plop from his chin. All that time, and when death had come between them, only then did they see eye to eye; well, Snape had wanted to just see his mother's eyes. That hurt him in a way he couldn't yet understand. Nevertheless, that moment had been the longest in his lifetime; time stilling just for a breath or two so in that instance they were alone, facing one another. Nothing to say but stare into each other's eyes. And when Harry had gone to the Pensieve with Snape's memories…

_I wish I could have saved you. At least you…at least…_

Harry swiveled on his feet and turned to walk out of the shack, making his way back to the castle. His children had been left to the Weasley's for only a small amount of time and so he had to hurry and do what he had to do. He didn't like leaving responsibilities that were his own to other people, but he had come here not to reminiscent so he cursed inwardly at being diverted from the actual course. However, Harry couldn't find himself to object going to the death place of..

_Severus…_

Harry smirked, knowing that if the git had been alive this day and caught him saying his name, the hexes and curses flown his way…

"Potter," came a light-hearted voice, deemed with authority.

Harry glanced up, his mouth forming a natural grin at the person.

"Professor McGonagall!"

She stood before him, aged, though the lines showed hardly any defeat, but pure creases of her steadfast pasts. She was adorn with the same design of her high-collared robes back in his school days, instead of black, they were a light blue, almost silvery in the small light the setting sun offered. Looking closely at the material, it seemed to shimmer. Fascinated, Harry turned his attentions back to her, nodding as she opened a palm of invitation into the Entrance Hall.

Harry followed his previous Transfiguration, and Head of House professor, looking all around. It was the holidays so not many students inhabited in the area. Those who stayed back and got a chance to glimpse the Saviour of the World, broke out into whispers as the two figures passed by. Harry, even through all these years, still grimaced at the action. Quickly, he caught up to McGonagall's long strides, swallowing the bitter taste of nostalgia. Everywhere they turned, climbed, strode brought back memories; the entrance to the dungeons causing the most burn in his heart. He had been away from the castle for too long, ever since he had became an Auror, which was roughly around the time when the battle ended. Then Ginny…another burn came to his heart, this time staying to wrench at the collapsing muscle. Harry had to bite hard on his lower lip to cause another unneeded tearfall.

After what seemed like a century, they stood in front of the famous gargoyle statue glaring at the both of them.

"Mimpus Coompus," Professor McGonagall uttered and the gargoyle obliged allowing them onto the moving staircase which headed up to the Headmistress' quarters.

_They were once Professor Dumbledore's, _Harry sadly recollected, shoving that memory back into its place at the far back of his mind. Thinking about the late Headmaster made him think of why he wasn't there anymore, and ending up to thinking about Snape which of course brings back the shack and Snape's memories. And they all meant deaths which included… _to go back in time and maybe- _Harry paused on a step while entering into the office, his breath caught in his throat. There was a way! But, no, it would be absurd as all the other Time Turners had been destroyed by the ministry. _Or had they?_

"Mr. Potter?" Harry rose his eye from the wooden flooring and had to catch his breath before offering a small smile of reassurance to the now worried looks he was getting from his ex-teacher. He sat himself in the chair before her, wiggling into a comfortable spot making sure as to not seem so castaway in his thoughts.

Minerva, after another brief glance in the boy's direction to assure he was now paying attention, finally sat in her chair, coaxing over some books and papers from outside into the office onto her desk. She rummaged for a bit while Harry contemplated on an actual Time Turner still being in existence. It could quite possibly work.

_Or you're just being a complete imbecile and dunderhead._

After all these years, why did he only think about going back into time now? It must have been because of being back at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He cast his eyes about the room, drinking in the difference, or more lack thereof, in the room. Professor McGonagall had kept it nearly the same as the late Headmaster's design, just the slight change of curtains and the missing pedestal where Albus Dumbledore's phoenix once perched. Anything else was hardly unrecognizable. The shuffling and small grunt of unappreciation coming from McGonagall's direction got Harry's attention back to the present. His mind had been slipping for far too much today.

Shifting uncomfortably in the lush chair, McGonagall finally acknowledged him by placing several papers in front of him she had been rearranging since the beginning. Harry pushed up his glasses from the bridge of his nose, adjusted his sitting position by scooting more towards the edge of the chair, and began picking through the parchments.

"Take your time," she murmured softly as Harry's eyes darted over all the letterings, the words not really coming into much play. "It's been only but two years since Ginny's," Minerva paused, lips pursed, daring herself to keep going. The ashen look now displayed fully on Potter's face made it harder to do so. "Since Ginny's passing, but she did want to do this. You will think it over?"

Harry hid his face this time, bringing the request papers above his forehead so that any stubborn tears that fell would go possibly unseen. "Yeah," he croaked. "Will do." He got up then, tapping the edges of the stack to straighten them before giving a small nod of his head to the Headmistress. She only peered at him through pitiful eyes. He hated that.

"Take care of yourself, Potter. You and your children."

Harry only nodded, a smile hardly evident on his features as he tried to choke back the oncoming slaught of sadness welling up in him.

_Children. Ginny's and his children. Children who will never see their mother again as they turn from infants into grown pre-teens. _

Once clear from the office, Harry made his way down to the dungeons. He had been in the Gryffindor Tower earlier that day to see if anything had changed, though once taking a glance outside of the window, made his way swiftly outside to the shack. Nothing had changed. Nothing. And it took ever ounce of him from spilling out whatever breakfast he managed to get down.

These days, Harry hardly slept, always too preoccupied with work, or making sure James and Albus was in check, or cooing Lily's cries. She never cried when Ginny was around. The heartbreaking sensation took over him as he stood in front of the doors into this once Potion's class. He let everything spill then. The memories when he would dread going into the very room behind the doors, the sneers and cold comments from his Potion's teacher, the intoxicating smells that almost always manifested itself in the air, and the snide remarks Harry and his friends would get and retort back behind Snape's back.

Snape's lifeless body rocketed Harry's own as he sobbed horribly in the lone corridor, back against the doors, body dropping hopelessly to the ground. He wrapped his arms around his knees, the papers crumbling against the strain and cowered there, crying. If he had saved Snape's life, none of this would have happened. Ginny would have remained here at Hogwarts and not have a need to join the Auror group to defend whatever rights the Potions Master deserved. If…if…

_If I could go back in time. _

Again, the silly notion made a bubble in the hero's mind. But, from his point of view at the moment, it didn't seem so silly. He removed his glasses, cast a small cleaning spell as his glasses were tear-stained, and got up from the ground. His heart rammed heavily against his chest. Out of all the time in his life, he never thought how idiotic this idea seemed, though the adrenaline now pushing him to unfathomable limits only made it that much harder to restrain against it.

_He could do it. First things first, pick up the boys and Lily._

He needed to be with them; kiss their foreheads, coax them to sleep, or wrestle on the boys' behalf (at this Harry couldn't help but smile, the glimmer of hope rising), and made sure they knew he loved them all. Each and every one of them. If Harry succeeded, he wouldn't be alone in placing the kids to bed. He wouldn't be…

_You're a right selfish git, Harry. You know that, right?_

But, he was already determined as he apparated to the Burrow, the parchment stack being crumpled in his grip. There wouldn't be any need for them.

_If you succeeded._


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: **I [regrettably] don't own Harry Potter. I [regrettably] only take Ms. J.K. Rowling's characters and scenarios that she has so greatly made and turned them into my own personal puppets and scenery. I [regrettably] don't make money off of this. I [regrettably] never will.

And to my First Reviewer!

**Padme.G: **No, thank you. That's actually very comforting as this is a first for me. ;]

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><p><strong>SAVE ME<strong>

Albus and James finally curled up next to each other, hands clasped within the other's grasp as they laid face to face, down for the count. Harry timidly placed a blanket over the both of them, a small smile forming at the corners of his lips. He softly brushed back one of Albus' dark locks behind his ears. The boy would need a haircut soon. Harry turned his attention to the eldest son and did the same. They would both need a trimming. Sighing, he kissed each of them on the forehead before turning off the lights and heading to Lily's bedroom.

The house was a simple one; not too demanding of needing a clean every day, but not too simple where there wouldn't be enough room for the children to run around and around, although Ginny had highly protested on such acts. Harry pushed his glasses farther up his nose at the memory. In the next moment, he rounded the corner into his daughter's room, the crib charmed to rock the child within it to sleep though the occupant seemed to be doing anything but.

Lily cooed and garbled out nonsensical words, each syllable beating a wrenching nail into Harry's heart as he drew closer to the crib. She giggled when his head popped above her, little miniscule feet kicking at the air playfully, similar hands pawing at the air trying to reach for him. Harry obliged, picking her up in one swift motion and holding her close to his body allowing the hidden fear to encompass him. Her smell engulfed his nose; sweet baby's skin and milk. He choked on a sob, cradling her even closer. Ginny was supposed to be here, holding her like this, coaxing Lily to sleep with that soft voice of hers and the rich, happy aura she always brought along with her. He brushed a rough thumb along the baby skin of his daughter's, their identical eyes locked.

"Ginny," he coughed, voice raspy, throat dry since the morning. "Ginny.."

As if the child had sensed some kind of wrong doing, Lily grasped a small bit of hair that her tiny hands could manage and remained silent, no longer fidgeting in the Gryffindor's grasp. This only brought the onslaught of pain still held in Harry's chest, falling to his knees, cradling the child while he wept into her pajamas. The tears didn't stop, his heart breaking with each racking sob. He cried, screamed, squeezed the form in his arms as if death was around them now. As if Voldemort was about to stalk right into that room and hex his Lily while he protected her. Even the amusement of something like that happening didn't wrench Harry from his nightmarish past. And still Lily continued her silence, her grasp never faltering.

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><p>The glass glinted empty in the lamplight, all the golden liquid it held gone. Fingertips tapped against the glass before an entire hand covered it completely, picking it up from its place at the side table and refilling it to the brim with another dose of Firewhiskey. Harry slouched back against the chair he inhabited for the past three hours. It was now ten minutes to one in the morning. Tilting his head back, he down the entire contents of the drink and slammed the once again empty glass onto the table, pushing himself out of the comfort of his favorite chair.<p>

_It had been Ginny's…_

Stumbling, drunken, he made a grab for the floo powder dish near the fireplace and at once dropped the entirety of the contents, except for whatever he managed to get into his hand, all across the carpeted floor. The crimson color now bore glistening silver substance. Harry didn't give it a second look as he threw the floo powder and hollered, "Ministry of Magic!"

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><p>The dark corridors leading towards the Department of Mysteries were as Harry had last seen them, cold and dank, the narrow space to walk in tauntingly close as if about to swallow him whole in the darkness. Were it not for the occasional torch along the sides, Harry would have had to resort to his wand for illumination. Even then, the light they gave off couldn't suppress the ominous foreboding aura creeping in the corridors. Then, he was there. He looked up at the doors, wishing to scare him into thinking sensible. Harry smirked. Sensibility had long since left him from the first glass of that honorable alcoholic drink. He opened the doors, amazed at how willingly they obliged. Green eyes fixated at the knobs, breath hitching. There was no turning back after this. He pushed and entered, closing the doors softly behind him.<p>

Between the time of when he left Hogwarts to grabbing his children, feeding them, tucking them into bed, Harry noted that there had been an artifact of similarities towards the Time Turner Hermione Granger had in possession in their third year in school. Amongst the endless raids of nabbing up the remaining Death Eaters still lurking about, they had come across some kind of sand timer, large, though dark magic wove frighteningly around it, daring anyone but its owner to touch it. Harry was cautious not to see what would happen. Now, with the firewhiskey still burning in his throat and belly, he wondered if flying without a broomstick and a spell conjured from someone else's wand seemed probable.

He knew the complications of winding through the Department, though after setting his mind to where he needed to get to, the doors were easy to go through, the walkways undeniably effortless. It was as if he had a dose of that rare potion he won from Professor Slughorn in his sixth year: felix felicis. All too soon, Harry found himself in the very room Sirius had died, and there before him stood the culprit. Harry's breath caught in his throat as the scene replayed before him, lungs constricting as his godfather's face turned from a grinning expression to that of fear, dark eyes boring into green orbs which could only watch in horror when the misty clouds enveloped themselves around the animagus, pulling him into whatever abyss lay ahead. It took all of Harry's strength to wrench himself from the ghastly object, keeping himself from throwing some kind of curse at it. But what good would it do? Maybe, he didn't need to just save Snape's life. He could go as far back as Sirius!

Something in the back of his mind began to nag at him, begging him to not keep thinking these irrational thoughts, but the Boy Who Lived was already down the path of bringing those all back to life. No, he could do more.

_I can simply destroy Voldemort before ANY of this happened._

He allowed his mind to roam as he finally got to the last door keeping him from his raging ambitions. Without hesitation, he pulled the door open, darkness welcoming him into their cold clutches as he took a step in and lighted his wand. Him and his friends never ventured here since they were too preoccupied with the battle that had occurred during their 'Save Sirius' mission. Harry cursed inwardly at himself for such a dumb, idiot idea. He had gotten his godfather killed, the only family he had left.

_'Had'…about to be changed._

He strode deeper, casting small glances from side to side. Large desks were placed against the walls holding multiple items, some decipherable, others hardly. He took twenty more steps into the black room, pausing abruptly at the object at hand.

It glistened brighter than anything else in the room, a small flicker of light on its own from the sands within. Harry would have probably found it without the light from his wand. It was half his height, reaching to his waistline. The sands were all at the bottom, sparkling in a blue color. None of its designs showed that it had any comparison towards Hermione's one. He had been wrong. He slouched to the ground on his knees, head bowed. This was stupid. Everything he did was stupid. He was stupid to let Voldemort control his mind and end up losing Sirius. He was a right dunderhead for allowing Cedric Diggory to grab that portkey. He was fucked up in the head to not stay back when Snape bled to death in front of him. Probably step in before Fred had to be hit with a killing curse. He was…mad, angry… _pissed _at himself for allowing Ginny to even join their group_._

He counted all the deaths that had been his fault. Yes, he blamed himself because of his tomfoolery and Dumbledore's insistence to not attack the Dark Lord. He had to wait. But why? Why couldn't he just go up to the evil son-of-a-bitch and hex his ass right then and there? Why bloody fucking wait?

The silence bore down hard upon him. It was then he realized how alone he felt. There was an aching numbness swelling in the pool of his stomach. A cold draft from somewhere unknown seeped under his long sleeve collared shirt and through the pores of his jeans rising goosebumps across his skin. The warmth of his kids awaited for him at home. How much more stupid could he get? He had them to live by! They were counting on their father's strength to keep them going, help them get through school and making families of their own.

Harry didn't budge as his glasses fell off, nor did he move when a small light began to surround his hunched form. None of this stirred him from his thoughts, so embedded he was. Death now overtook most of his mind and seemed to control every actions that he managed to do.

It was when a small humming sound thrummed across the floor into Harry's senses that he finally fluttered his half-lidded eyes open, water already welling up behind his lashes. His heart stopped.

The sandtimer glowed brilliantly now, waves of blue light lashing towards the one before it, beckoning him closer…to touch. The lights were like that of tendrils, seeking, wanting, curling its way to the one who gaped in awe. The sensation overwhelmed Harry and he only found himself obliging, a tentative hand reaching out. He swallowed, licking his parched lips. The timer was pulsing as if alive, calling to him, giving him a vision of being saved from all of this. The closer his hand got, the warmer his inner self felt, not just his physical being, but the disastrous emotions that were running amuck as of late quelled under its spell.

His palm touched. The light grew brighter and brighter still, a whirlwind spinning around the object and Harry, his clothes rustling angrily against him, glasses forgotten on the ground. He placed his other hand on as well, the most exhilarating sensation flooding almost instantly through his veins and hitting him square in the chest. He stared wide-eyed as his hands were swallowed whole by the light, followed by his arms and soon his body, elation exploding every negative thought away. This, he wouldn't mind dying like this as his eyes rolled and his body fell to the floor, a grin plastered to his unmoving face.

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><p>A-N: This story will be a slow-moving one. Though, I will do my best in writing daily as much as I can. That is, if anyone even wants this to be continued. Herr-deh-herrr~<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Harry Potter. He [and everyone else in the Potterverse] belongs to J.K. Rowling. Rawrr~ Now I'm sad.

Anyway! This chapter is officially the start off on the main plot. Hmmmm. Hermhmmmm...

Snape love, anyone? He kinds of needs it since I haven't been giving him any...yet...

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><p>Bright light flooded behind his lids and it took all of Harry's strength to wrench them open. The wind blew hard at his face and the scent of rosemary, wet grass and moss hit his nose. This alarmed him. His forehead prickled, something that never happened since the death of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the infliction alerted him even more to rise up into a sitting position faster than he wanted to. His head spun. Blurred images of deformed trees and some kind of dark shape loomed close above him came in his vision.<p>

_Shit, my glasses!_

He groped around the grass, the dew tickling against his hands and fingers. The smell seemed familiar, too familiar as it bore a warning sign. Then came a voice that made him freeze as he sat up, heart leaping into his throat.

"Ow. Damn, where are we? You all right, Potter?" the low voice of one who was supposed to be dead grumbled.

Harry whipped around, lungs feeling about to explode from the over-active breaths he was now taking. His body began to shake, hands fisting into the grass under him. He swallowed, voice coming in a form of a coarse whisper.

"C-Cedric?"

There, just within reach, stood a blurred image of a tall boy facing him. Even without his glasses he could notice that form anywhere. After all, that same form held Cho Chang at the Yule Ball. Harry felt about to collapse right back into that nice, cool grass. "Harry! Are you all right? What's wrong?" Cedric fell to his knees and grabbed Harry's arms, blue eyes probing about the younger male's body for any physical injuries. The Boy-Who-Lived could only gape, both heartbroken and heart relived. The dead boy was holding him, glaring at his preposterous action of near-to-fainting. Nothing was getting past his need to analyze the situation at hand: Cedric Diggory was alive. The older boy's breath blew against his face, warm, live breath.

"Harry!" the Hufflepuff exclaimed, grabbing hold of the small form before it fell to the ground.

He wobbled in the other's grasp, doing his damn best to steady himself against the taller boy's build. Good God, he felt weak. He stood up shakily, Cedric following suit still keeping a firm grip. What Harry heard next weakened him almost to the point of falling unconscious.

"He's not alone," the irritable voice of none other than Peter Pettigrew himself spoke through the darkness. Harry couldn't see anything in front of them, though the dark shape that he had seen looming above taking a recognizable form. It was the grave site of Tom Riddle's father: a statue of a hooded figure holding a scythe. A shadow manifested itself from behind the statue, Harry could only guess was the piece-of-shit traitor to his parents. Anger burned within him. If it weren't for Cedric's presence, he would've cursed the bloody oaf to no end!

An almost inaudible whisper, filled with nothing but evil intent ripped through Harry's soul.

"Kill the other."

_No. This can't be happening. This…_

Searing pain shot through his forehead making him scream in anguish.

Harry shook his head to rid of the sudden clouds in his head, reaching out and yanking Cedric to him. "P-Portkey. Get it…" His eyes rolled to the back of his head, the pain in his forehead becoming increasingly stronger. There was a crunching sound of footsteps behind them and the awful gurgling sound of what Harry knew as the Dark Lord. He could almost feel the wand from the rat's hand rise, pointing towards the one deemed unimportant. The words were going to come across those wretched, pipsqueak lips.

_But not this time!_

"GRAB ON TO ME!" Harry bellowed with a strong force, not waiting for a reply, pointing his wand at the Triwizard cup. "ACCIO!" He was crying now, body racking with fear and anxiety. What if this didn't work? What if this was all a hoax or some dream?

_Then I'll save him even in my dreams._

The cup soared through the air in slow motion for the young boy turned teen, the idea of some kind of counter curse to interrupt its flight weighing heavy on his shoulders when he heard Wormtail's distant shout of surprise and a menacing angry drawl lashing into his mind. But soon, the cup was in his hand, arms tightly weaving themselves around Cedric's neck, squeezing.

_Please let this work!_

The familiar nose-whipping sensation coursed through his skin, the unbearable flight spinning them in circles. During the time that they traveled, the older boy's arms had gripped around Harry's waist, securing him close to his body. For a mini-second, Harry wanted to free himself and let go of the portkey instead. The touch and closeness made him uneasy. He shut his eyes, closing all thoughts from his mind before ground hit his feet, knees, then hands as they freed themselves from the terrible grip on the Hufflepuff Champion to steady himself from the fall. He coughed and sputtered into the grass much different than where he had been on just moments ago. There were similar sounds to his right. Obviously, the hold they had on each other took most of their breath.

Harry lifted his head and flushed. In his blurred vision the stands of the audience came in clear view. The faces may have been ruptured due to his unperfected sight, but they were there nonetheless.

Silence. Then a huge roar erupted. Harry quickened his pace in breathing, lungs over-expanding and deflating.

_No. Way._

Shouts and cheers rocketed the arena, a whole symphony of applause greeting his ears. Booms and crackles exploded overhead as fireworks burst their delight in the sky shooting streams of color changing between gold and scarlet, black with yellow sprinkles in the background so that the obstinate color didn't get mixed with the already darkened sky. What made Harry move the most, though, was Dumbledore. The slouched figure of a tall wizard with a beard leaning against the pedestal he had spoke at during the introduction to the last task couldn't be mistaken. The young boy all but rose to his feet and ran the fastest his wobbly legs would carry him, tears coming down in waterfall droplets. He didn't care if he looked stupid or dramatic. Dumbledore was alive!

_IS ALIVE! _Harry corrected himself, launching into the old geezer's arms, grey eyes widening in the most surprise it had ever seen. The Boy-Who-Lived wept, clinging to the hope that this, all of this, wasn't just some useless dream. But he had just saved Cedric Diggory, who was now being hustled about by his class and father, from an uncalled for death. And Dumbledore, he wasn't dead. His bright eyes were twinkling as they normally did behind those half-moon glasses, peering down on him like usual with that questioning brow lifted into whitened locks.

The slim and age-worn arms reached around the young Gryffindor to embrace him, not knowing why such an act was taking place with the boy spilling his guts over the field. Was it perhaps the fact he made it through? The boy shook uncontrollably, gazing up at him with a wide grin and tears overflowing those emerald orbs. The Headmaster caught himself. He could read fear, apprehension, uncertainty, need, loss all in the desperate look from the kid. Harry gripped onto Dumbledore harder, burying his face into the Headmaster's robes murmuring a single phrase over and over. Albus had to lean in to hear it.

"This is not a dream. This is not a dream. He's alive. He's alive."

Before Dumbledore could question, there was a shove on his right shoulder and a very explicit and moody, well, Mad-Eye Moody coming into focus. He bowed his head to examine the DADA professor over his spectacles, brow resuming its quizzical place. The man growled ferociously at the boy in his arms, his one eye glaring at the form while the other simply whizzed in its socket observing its surroundings.

Harry turned abruptly, pressing his back against Dumbledore's, arms stretched across. "You! Get away, you imposter!" he shouted through the still on-going roars of celebration. Glancing to the left, the Headmaster saw Snape stop in his tracks at the boy's outrageous actions. Moody just gawked at Potter, brows drawing in. The stubborn Gryffindor didn't stop there, even as his friends made their way through the crowd and stopped as well, the same distance Snape gave the three.

"You're not Moody!" he accusingly pointed at the professor. "Professor Dumbledore!" Harry whipped around, grabbing the elderly man's wrists in a despaired need. He wasn't going to back down now. He was on a roll! "He's Barty Crouch's son! He's been drinking Polyjuice Potion and locked up the real Mad-Eye Moody in some kind of chest thing and Voldemort's on the rise to get my blood so that he can come back in full-body form and I just saved Cedric Diggory from getting cursed to death and…" Harry's shouts were interrupted by an abrupt pull from behind him, big arms going around his neck and bringing him rough against something hard. Before he could register what was going on a bright flash whisked past his hear and a groan made close to his ear fell away.

Looking up, Harry saw a figure drenched in black which also billowed behind it. His heart clenched maddeningly at the thought. Dare he hoped?

"Potter," came the sarcastic drawl that Harry had been wanting to hear since the shape came into his sight. His clenched organ now did flipflops in his stomach. "Care to explain yourself?" A pause. "And whatever idiotic situation you seemed to have landed yourself in?"

Harry didn't hear the Headmaster's orders to bring the conversation indoors, nor did he realize the crowd had become fixated at the scene taking place on the grounds, neither did he turn to the ginger-haired girl that now made her way closer towards the group along with a red-haired companion who stared at him, worry apparent on both their faces. He made a slow step forward, eyes squinting, never removing from that all-too ghostly outline of black. Another step as he might as well have left his lungs on the ground. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe with each movement forward. The crowd's noise dimmed in Harry's ears, chest clenching on the only organ that seemed to make any exploit he was still alive.

Snape glared, though he was sure the Potter boy wouldn't be able to see the act since he was without glasses. The stubborn brat didn't even care that Snape had probably just saved his life, staring at him with those god-forsaken Lily-like eyes. Whatever nonsense the brat was speaking, they indeed needed to take this inside. They were already getting unnecessary stares. The Minister of Magic was already making his way over to them, no doubt from what he had just done: hitting Alastor Moody square in the chest with a stupefy.

He almost turned, almost being the keyword, before arms trapped him around the waist, his own arms locked at his sides and a mass of unkept hair ramming into his chest. It took him a moment to realize who it was by the voice following right after.

"Professor!" The Gryffindor's voice came out hoarse and used, bordering along the lines of…sadness? Snape's brow furrowed, the wrinkles in his forehead becoming more prominent. What the hell was going on here? Then came a case of racking sobs from the body squeezing the very air from him, hands fisting into his black robes. It was most probably that the brat had mistaken him for someone else what with his bad eyesight. If only that were the case as Harry managed to elude him further with that coarse whispering of his.

"I've missed you so much, Professor Snape. You've no idea how much."

Snape immediately pushed the boy off, black eyes boring hard into emerald greens. Harry stood dumbfounded, but an understanding passed over his glazed look and he merely smirked.

_He's…happy?_

"Severus." The commanding tone of the Headmaster jarred him back to his senses, eyes still casting furtive glances at the brat. _Why was he bloody smiling at him for? What did the Dark Lord do? Or more like… didn't do… _he gathered, eyes scrutinizing over the teen's body, not finding a single mark or blood anywhere. Had that meant the Dark Lord failed? _How? _

"Severus." Snape nodded at once, throwing one last look before charming the unconscious body of Mad-Eye Moody and stalking off the grounds, making his way to the Defense Against the Dark Art's classroom. Minerva, who had been watching along the sidelines taking in the course of events, strode along after Snape, eyes linking momentarily with Albus'. The Headmaster merely nodded.

Harry watched the Potions Master disappear amongst the now baffled crowd, evidently wondering why their DADA professor was being escorted in such a way. He should follow. Out of the corner of his eyes, Cornelius Fudge had stopped in front of Dumbledore wearing a very hard expression. At Harry's glance, Dumbledore turned to him, nodded in the direction his Head of House and Head of Slytherin went, before pulling the Minister of Magic to the side, hand gently steering the man away from the scene.

He was just about to oblige when once again he was interrupted, this time by people he didn't mind being interrupted by.

"Harry! You did it!" exclaimed his ginger-haired friend who bounded into his arms. Seeing her so young and innocent again made him cringe at the fact he was no longer Harry Potter, one who defeated the Dark Lord a second, who was both father and husband. Harry stopped. Gently, he pried himself from his best friend's hug and swiveled his eyes to the stands.

There. Her red-hair stood out, shining exquisitely against the still on-going fireworks display. Thin lips curled into a smile and her brown eyes lit up with excitement. She waved at him, thoroughly delighted he made it through the maze, and alive. Cho Chang was standing right beside her, but Harry no longer felt his fourteen year old self mesmerized by her. No. It was the woman of his dreams, and nightmares, the mother of his soon-to-be children. He ran up the stairs, ignoring Ron's bursts of "Mate! Where you going? Oye!"

"Harry! Where's your glasses?"

Harry stopped in front of Ginny, his body now completely taking control as his hands ran through the silky strands of his future love and pulled her close, lips pressing harshly against the other's. There was a sound of protest and hands coming up to his shoulders to push him away, but they didn't. Her mouth opened and he delved in, relishing in the taste of his lost love, the bitterness making his hands shake and throat run dry.

It was after a long session of snogging did Harry finally pull away, but not too far from his near-sightedness. Ginny stared into his eyes, and he did the same. The light giving off from her brown orbs mimicked his own: love. He embraced her then, crushing her small body into his, melting in her presence. The tears wouldn't come now, not when she was alive and breathing. In slow hesitation, her arms snaked around him and at long last held him back, his head resting on hers, hers on his chest. Harry's heart calmed at the small gesture, fingers tangling themselves into red strands.

_I'm not going to lose you. Or anyone else._

* * *

><p>** Yes, yes, I know. It's got love on all [the wrong] sides. "Patience is a virtue," so the saying goes. After all, I did warn that this was going to be a long run.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own Harry Potter. All writings are strictly fan-based. [Derp]

* * *

><p><strong>TOO MUCH<strong>

"Harry, you can't do this."

"Watch me!"

Matching emerald eyes did as he said with pain and frustration at not being able to do anything but watch the young boy run and snatch his falling godfather, before the ghastly tendrils of the Veil could reach out to the animagus. The ghost image of Lily frowned, displeased that her son succeeded in saving another life.

Their bodies rolled onto the ground and down the stairs, toppling over each other step after step. They grunted with each bump, but Harry held on tight. They finally stopped, and before Bellatrix could blast another killing curse, Harry rounded up and bellowed with every ounce of his strength, "CRUCIO!"

He meant it, every syllable. To his horror, and amusement, the while-haired murderer's eyes widened in both shock and agony, the black mass crumpling to the ground to writhe and jerk about, groans reaching from deep within her throat.

He held his wand amazingly steady at the form, a sneer creeping onto his thin lips. Harry cocked his head to the side while the body lifted and plopped on the ground, back arching, neck craning, green eyes positively mesmerized by the scene. The scar began to prickle, a rather nice sensation it seemed to the Boy-Who-Lived.

"AAAAAHHHH!" Oh, how lovely that voice thrummed into his skin. "AAAaahh~! St-st-st-st…p" Yes, beg! Beg, you pathetic bitch! "Stop-pl-" The insane woman's vocals were growing weaker. Tears began to well in those black orbs.

This excited Harry more. He jabbed his wand in the air, relishing in the newly high-pitched screams ricocheting off the walls. He took slow steps towards her, all too aware of the eyes staring at the pair.

"Harry. Stop." It was Lily's voice again, close to his ear. An ethereal presence pushed up behind him, cold.

He spun around, wand raising to that God-forsaken spirit, green eyes glinting with a menace not his own. "Don't," he snarled at the ghostly form, wand trembling. "Don't. You. Dare." His mother didn't flinch, those eyes never swaying, never changing their suffering expression. This only enraged her son.

"Stop staring at me like that!" He flew his arms around. "I'm saving people here!" He held his wand under her chin, the tip just entering into her see-through throat. "I'm saving people who shouldn't have died in this stupid war." He took a step towards his mother wand still in place, now so close to her he could feel the chill brush against his and through his scalp.

"They don't deserve to die." A whisper just bordering on losing hope. He was doing something right.

_Right?_

"You died for me. Now," Harry paused, green orbs mimicking the countenance of his mother's. "I'm going to use this life you gave me and protect them all, save them all…die…" His voice hitched, and that was when he heard a rustle behind him.

He whirled all too late, seeing the murderous glare pierce straight in his soul from a now standing Bellatrix Lestrange, her wand pointed at him.

"Avada…kedavra," she rolled the curse off her lips akin to a simple lullaby verse, mouth twitching into a perfect shy smile as if she had done something so fascinating as the green light smashed into the Golden Boy's chest, and he flew far, farther, up the stairs while opaque coils slithered about his body and dragged him into hell.

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><p>Harry felt his back slam against something hard sending a sharp pain up his spine. The sounds of glass tinkled behind him, but nothing crashed.<p>

_Good. Don't need the git to yell at me for something being broken. _As if on cue, a growl came from a distance in front of him.

"Explain, Potter." Harry swallowed, throat parched. His glasses were lopsided on his face, sweat drenching his shirt and hair. His bum felt as if it had met with enough surfaces for the night. Actually, from the screaming aches all around his body, he could do with just sitting here for the rest of the night.

"Answer, Potter," the drastic drawl the man possessed made Harry realize how much he missed it. He only shook his head in response, eyes still close while his head lolled side to side against the cabinet he fell onto. Tears and that heart-wrenching scene that replayed from one of dreams the night before was taking a toll on him, not mentioning the hour long occlumency lessons he won himself earlier than expected.

* * *

><p>During his interrogation with Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office the same night they revealed the real Mad-Eye Moody and taken care of the imposter, the older man had started to scrutinize him like never before. The conversation paused when Dumbledore asked, "How did you know all of this, Harry?"<p>

The green-eyed teen could only purse his lips and keep his attention to the floorboards under his feet. He shook his head feeling sweat drip off his forehead. Whether it was from the actions before or the analysis he was undergoing, Harry could only do his best to not show signs of nervousness. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape were the worst people to lie to. It was as if they could read your inner thoughts without the use of Legilimency.

And so, he lied. "Dreams, sir," eyes glued to his shoelaces. They were starting to fringe. "I've been getting a lot of nightmares lately."

The Headmaster only nodded over his half-moon spectacles and whispered something to Faux who Harry had just realized was there, perched on its stand. He smiled, a feeling of nostalgia washing over him. It seemed that Harry would be getting a lot of those. The bird took off, soaring through the window.

Silence.

Harry cleared his throat, moving his gaze anywhere but to the man in front of him. Finally, what seemed more than the fifteen minutes that they had actually sat in the quietness, green eyes flicked up to meet instantaneously with grey orbs. He didn't move. Moving would mean defeat.

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling again, a spark sent straight into Harry's senses.

_Shit. He knows. _He smirked inwardly. The old coot was still as perceptive as ever.

Bang! Harry jumped, swiveling his eyes to the door behind him, his heart immediately dropping a good ways down his stomach. _Shit. _Onyx orbs shot down to look at emeralds briefly before rising to meet grey. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Harry spun in his chair to turn back to Dumbledore, brows furrowed. Faux had somehow made his way back onto his perch without his noticing. His eyes narrowed at the beast. It had gone to grab the damn Potions Master. This could only mean one thing…

"Professor Snape, I would like you to take care of our young Potter here. You know what we've been going on about?" He stood from behind his desk, moonlit eyes staring hard into Snape's. A silent understanding passed between them and Snape nodded, striding across the room and grabbing Harry by the elbow, yanking him off the chair. The Gryffindor stumbled after the taller form, wincing at the pressure holding his elbow.

"Ow! What-?"

"Shut up, Potter," the older man growled. "Do not talk until I tell you to."

Harry tried his best to keep up with the guy, faltering at times but caught just on cue by Snape stopping and using his back as a brace, then proceeding forward quite suddenly, causing Harry to have so little time to recollect himself and falling over again. The black form only snarled at him once of how clumsy he was, but didn't slow.

Down the stairs they went, into the corridors, and farther down where Harry knew was the dungeons. He laughed inwardly. Only a day ago he walked this same path, but for a different reason. His heart reminisced sadly, then realizing the man he had cried for was dragging him harshly by the elbow.

_At least he's not wearing those damn billowing robes. I'd be tripping over them at a constant rate!_

Once inside Snape's quarters, which Harry remembered only during his Occlumency lessons with Snape in the past, this past's future, the older male whipped around and conjured multiple charms, most Harry recognized as silencers and guards. After a few minutes, with his back to the boy, Snape inhaled a breath and turned around to meet the boy.

Harry frowned at how well the man could be doing such sudden movements with fluid motions. He was never that…elegant. Snape saw the frown as something else, a smirk curving at the edges of his mouth. "Despite what you think, Potter, I as well do not take joy in being in the company of the likes of you." Harry turned his attention elsewhere.

* * *

><p>And now, here he was on the nice, cool floor, brain lacking in thoughts as they spilled themselves almost freely with each thrust of the older male's wand.<p>

_I wasn't supposed to be doing this until next year. What the fuck…_

What if he had disrupted some kind of time continuum thing that Ron's father had talked about before. Even Muggles feared messing with time. Something about "things happen for a reason." Oh, well, Harry was about to fuck it up even more.

"Potter!" Harry jumped from his sprawled position on the ground, eyes snapping open. Snape had somehow strolled across the big space between them and now squatted in front of him, eyes ignited with a flashing curiosity. The professor's hands rotated his thin, black wand. Everything about the guy was black.

Potter sat up higher against the potions cabinet, quickly adjusting his glasses, not wanting to meet inky gaze that was most definitely staring at him. For the past hour he had done his damn best to force Snape out of his mind. It wouldn't do to have the guy seeing his future 'past'. How ironic. Past seeing the future already been done.

"I-I don't know, Professor," the boy stammered, pushing himself to think of something, anything. "They're just dreams." Which was true. That vision was just that, a vision. It hadn't happened….yet. He was pretty sure that wasn't good enough for the man, though, and chanced a glance up, regretting it immediately. Black eyes were searching his face. He fought to remain calm, breathing in small intervals.

Snape leveled himself to equal Potter's. His voice came out in its famous sarcastic jeer. "Really, now?" A sneer crept its way onto the teacher's lips. "Dreams, Potter?"

_Yup. He ain't backing down._

"Ones that involve saving your beastly godfather?" Snape continued. "And the woman…?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange." Harry inputted. The other froze, brow twitching.

_Oh. Right. I'm not supposed to know her, yet._

"Read about her," he hurriedly added before Snape could ask. "In some newspaper clipping or something." He waved his hand in the air, trying to make it believable. Snape still didn't give in. Instead, he leaned forward on his toes, their noses just an inch apart, Harry finding himself holding his breath at the proximity. He should've been flabbergasted and flown himself farther back against the cabinet, but he didn't move, just stared back at the man with determination. Gryffindor stubbornness and all.

Snape spoke, every word syllabized with a certain… malice? It pierced Harry's chest like a thousand needles. "Your mother gives you advice. Whether in spirit or mind, it would do good to listen when she speaks, since you take mostly after your father." His eyes burned with a passion not so enthusiastic. His usual snarl turning into a beast like motive, breath hot against Harry's cheeks. "Why is she telling you to stop? What is it that you have to stop, Potter? These are NOT your normal dreams."

Slytherin's Head of House moved so close their noses actually touched. Harry's heart plummeted, all masking of keeping his nervousness down gone in that instance. "If they can even be called….dreams…" He let out the last word in an almost inaudible whisper, still filled with spite.

The Gryffindor boy rose himself higher yet in his sitting position to break the closeness from their noses, planting his back fully against the cabinet. Dammit! If the bloody git hadn't died, or would die later in his future, he wouldn't be this would be throwing insults and like at this greasy-haired potions freak.

_But he loves your mother. Still in love, _he corrected, those dark eyes betraying no emotion, though that small spark from speaking of Lily still lingered however faint it was.

Harry scowled. This man before him loved his mother for so long, and is _still _not willing to let her go. Even after she married his father, the man who bullied the git for the longest. Even after she died…for him, Harry bloody Potter, the son of James fucking Potter. Not that Harry didn't love his father, just didn't agree much with the guy's past and how he acted like such an ass. All this thinking made him oblivious to what came next.

"Legilimens," a baritone whisper blew across Harry's temples fogging his glasses, erupting his thought train, memories flooding harsh into his vision.

_No! I wasn't ready! No, wait!_

* * *

><p>"<em>Harry! You're home early!" Red hair bounced through the doorway and ran all the way out to meet with her husband, jumping into his arms and wrapping her arms lovingly around him. Her red lips turned up into a blissful smile. Harry returned it with pleasure. Looking behind her, two boys bounded out of the door, shrieking. Wait, no, one was shrieking. The shorter boy was running away with fright from the taller brother who held something in his hands. <em>

_Harry knew what it was and rushed to his youngest son eagerly, shouting out angrily, "James! Don't you dare!"_

* * *

><p>"POTTER! Are we having daydreams about family at this day and age?" Snape's voice rammed hard into Harry's ears as his head lolled off to the side having used the last of his strength to push the man out. He swallowed bile and dry air.<p>

"Dreams, sir. Just dreams." He was weakening. Anymore and he was about to lose his secrets. Earlier, he would have thought that everything in his recent past was just a passing dream, and he hadn't defeated Voldemort, that he was still a student in Hogwarts. Being in the past was making things much too complicated to keep up with.

A jerk of his chin to look up only increased the onslaught of dizzyness shrouding his mind. He hardly had the strength to open his eyes, so didn't. Warm breath grazed against his face, clouding his glasses, that same damnable voice that was once a feel of joy to find it alive was fast becoming irritating.

"Potter! Loot at me when I talk to you! These are not dreams! Do not fool me, boy! LEGILIMENS!"

_No…not yet…_

* * *

><p>"<em>Cedric! Cedric, my boy! Ooooh, my poor boy. No! Cedric, my son! That's my son!"<em>

_Harry didn't budge from the boy, gripping it close, hoping against hope that his life could somehow revive his new-found friend. He cried with the father, hands and muffled voices trying to pry him from the dead body, but he held firm._

"_No!" he croaked, waving one arm around. "No! NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!" And back he went to cradling the now becoming cold form. Grief, torment, confusion, resentment….and agony swept through his entire being, sobs racking his body uncontrollably. _

_Finally, he was gripped at the elbow and yanked to a standing position. The world spun immediately around him, a strong grip on him keeping him upright. "C'mon, Potter. I got you." They were words from someone trustworthy. Someone he could rely on. Someone who helped him get through this nasty business of this fucked up staged Triwizard crap. Who the fuck invented it anyway?_

"_C'mon, Potter! Walk. I got you. I got you."_

_Big arms held him fast to a body, and he clung for dear life, still crying out in anguish and regret. Why did everything he did fuck up? He knew who it was that was helping him, and gave in willingly to be guided to possibly safety, away from all the screams and prying eyes of others._

_They went up stairs and the imaged blurred, memories floundering about until it focused out in Mad-Eye Moody's quarters. Harry was staring wide-eyed at Professor Moody who had suddenly gone bonkers. How did he know they were at a graveyard? Mad-eye was now peering at him with a certain relish, and it sent a shudder through Harry's bones. Then the oddest thing happened, a tongue flickered out, snake-like, from out of Moody's mouth. He jarred in his seat, nearly feeling himself topple backwards, but catching it in time._

_Professor Moody grabbed the arms of the chair and leaned in, hot breath whisking against Harry's forehead. Blue eyes darted upwards, eyes re-alighting with a hunger, then they met with startled emeralds. "How was it?" Harry bunched his brows. "How was it like, to be in the presence of the Dark Lord?" There. That tongue thing again. Where had Harry seen it before?_

_The scene shifted again, this time with him off the chair and standing, staring at the now fully revealed Barty Crouch Junior, tongue flicking away. Snape was glaring daggers at the seated form who stared right back with a laughing vengeance. And then Harry was being shipped off, no doubt to Dumbledore's office._

* * *

><p>Harry relapsed against the cabinet, full-blown exhausted of everything. He breathed in much needed air, wheezing as he did so. The world spun so much more menacingly than before, heart ramming hard against its cage, sweat dripping out of every pore in his body. He couldn't move, daren't move.<p>

There was a pressing silence, and with his eyes closed, Harry could probably fall asleep. Almost, actually, before his chin was grabbed in a vice grip. "Open. Your. Eyes." Harry obliged, but with a forced effort. Sleep, he just wanted to sleep. There was just too many emotions flooding inside of him, choking his way of breathing right.

Snape watched the lids open slowly, straining to do such a simple task. He had worn the boy thin, and for good reason. He brought his voice down low, intimidating and slow, "What. Was. That. Potter."

The foolish, stubborn, idiotic boy only shook his head making Snape fight back the urge to whap the kid in the head. "Potter!" A grimace formed on Harry's face, eyes averting to the side of the Potion Master's face. That dunderhead was definitely hiding something, and he was going to find out.

His wand hand risen again from his lap before a screech sounded across the room. Snape spun in place, his coattails dragging on the ground while he still squatted. His knees protested slightly. Fawkes fluttered in, perching himself on the desk. He pursed his lips. Snape whipped back around, grabbed the boy by the scruff of his clothing and all but picked him up from the ground, landing him on his feet.

Harry wobbled unsteadily, both hands coming out to hold onto Snape's hand for a steady recovery. The hand didn't move away, thankfully. "Go back to your dormitory. We will continue this later, Potter." A pause. Then a shove to the entrance. "Get going, you bile prat!" Another shove, landing him out the door.

As soon as Harry was able to catch his bearings, a loud thunderous sound echoed from behind him, most likely the old git slamming the door. He teetered, still completely drained of the necessary energy to make it out of the lab, but he somehow had made it.

It took forever and a day before Harry tipped himself into the familiar beddings and four-poster bed un aware of the spectacles still perched on his nose, now askew on his face. He hadn't remembered the password, though luckily enough Minerva was just coming about to check on him. She hastily gave him the silly phrase and ushered him inside, completely aghast at the sight of him probably. He did feel like a right mess.

Normally, in his past days after Ginny's death, no matter how sleep deprived he was, his ever-reeling mind kept him awake. Though, now, even after going through as much as he had today, thoughts were defeated by a quick dark blanket thrown over them.

* * *

><p>A-N: I'm sorry that this has taken forever, but I was really stuck on how to come across this scene. It's done, though! Yay~<p>

+Is now sleep-deprived and goes to curl in bed+


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own Harry Potter. All rights go to their respective owner[s].

Thank you to those who have given me reviews. They're absolutely wonderful and encouraging. Makes me want to keep up with this story. Yay~!

I've noticed alot of mistakes in my last chapter a bit too late. Sorry about that. ;[ My laptop is old, so it likes to have a mind of its own sometimes. Hopefully, it doesn't do it again.

Well! Without further ado! Enjoy~

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><p>Harry stumbled as he rushed to the fallen body, sprawled so beautifully out on the dew morning grass. Everything ran in slow motion, lights streaking across the still darkened sky over his head, bodies either falling or waving their wands emitting those streaks. He dodged at times if one got too close, but the form his eyes were locked on never moved.<p>

_No. Please, Merlin, no._

He vaulted over a fallen Death Eater, narrowly getting hit by a stunning curse. Another bound and he was skidding to a stop on his knees, hands bringing the head of his beloved in his lap. His heart stopped. Amidst clammy red hair and a paling complexion, bright brown eyes gazed off to the side, loss of its familiar glint.

Harry just sat there, cradling the body, moving it closer into his hold, fingers threading through the silky, sweaty strands. The gold band of marriage glinted in the barrage of lights casting overhead. "Ginny," he choked, not wanting to let negative thoughts dawn in yet. She could just be sleeping.

_With her eyes open._

"Ginny, love, wake up." His throat tightened, chest crushing at a sudden weight, his already perspired body becoming heated with passion. "Gi-Gi- No, don't you dare." He wrapped his arms around the limp form, head falling into the crook of her neck, feeling the cold sweat from his lover.

She still smelled like how she did when they were in bed just a few hours ago before the raid. The scent got caught in his nose and stubbornly wouldn't leave. Harry shook her, bringing his face up to watch hers.

_She'll get up. She has to._

"Ginny! C'mon, stop playing around!" he cried out accusingly, tears steaming heavily at the edges of his eyes. "GINNY!"

Someone was calling from behind him. So what.

He continuously shook the form, angry now that his own wife would so such a thing to him. "Get up! You have to get up!" His voice grew hoarse, and the salty taste of tears hung at the sides of his mouth. He shook harder. Brown eyes continued to stare openly at the stars above them. She always did love the stars. "Ginny! Ginny! GINNY!" But, he wanted her to look at him now.

Harry fell onto the body, his legs wrapping her entirely, pulling her into a tight embrace. The body was losing its warmth. He'll keep it warm, then.

Harry screamed, cried shouted, gripped his wife with all of his love and hate, pouring out his very soul at what was becoming lost. He bellowed her name over and over, then whispered, "I love you. Don't do this. I love you. I love you. I love you. What about our children, hmm?"

He didn't know how long he was at it, only what seemed like his entire lifetime, shadows were circling around him. During his screaming rage of heartbreak, his glasses had fallen off. An arm reached out and he whipped his wand at it.

"STUPEFY! DON'T YOU FUCKING GET CLOSE!" He pulled Ginny into his chest, his wand sweeping at the bodies around them. His eyes were livid, and hurt. No, just hurt, as one of the silhouettes stepped in front of him and squatted, a familiar face coming into play. His wand dropped along with his heart. Every wall he had risen before the raid came crashing down.

"It's all right, Harry. Let's bring her home, shall we?" Dead. That's what the other's expressions were stating. Bring her home…dead. Harry lost it then, and slipped into absolute despair.

"Harry, it's going to be ok."

"NO! IT'S FUCKING NOT! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!"

"Harry.."

"GO AWAY! BRING GINNY BACK!"

"Harry…"

"GO…away-" He was trembling now, his body protecting his love. His heart. His heart now gone.

"Harry…"

"No."

"Harry.."

"Go away…"

"HARRY!"

Harry flew up from his sleep, colliding rather harshly into something hard square on his face, smashing his glasses into his eyes.

"OW! Dammit, Harry! What in the bloody hell?"

Harry groaned in unison with the voice who had spoken. He bent his head and covered it with his hands, one thumb and forefinger massaging at the base of his nose. It was then that he realized his eyes were wet and his face taunt. Crap. He had been crying in his sleep, again.

"Sorry," Harry murmured taking a short glance to his left hand, noticing only then the missing band of connection to Ginny before looking up to watch his best friend rubbing his face eagerly, probably trying to take away the pain from the collision. This made a certain pressure in his mind wear off. He had half the mind that he would awaken back at home, his future home.

Harry looked down and saw that someone had conveniently covered him with his blanket and whisked it off, swinging his legs off the bed and hung his feet over the edge. Wow, he was short at this age.

Ron finally stopped his moaning and peered over his hands still plastered to his face. His eyes narrowed at his friend. Harry averted his eyes to floor, biting his lower lip. He felt like fourteen all over again.

_Haha, irony._

The red-head spoke first. "You all right, mate? Had a nasty dream, I could hear. Shouting and spouting out something about Ginny, and when I came over to you, you were practically gushing out tears like a damn sad bloke, clinging your blanket and all."

"Wh-what did I say?" Harry rose his eyes from the floor to his friend, brows bunching in worriment that he probably spoke aloud Ginny's death. That wouldn't do.

Ron only shrugged, rubbing four fingers, two from each hand, up and down the bridge of his nose, eyes going cross to watch. "Dunno, mate. I wasn't really paying attention until I heard you shout my sister's name." He turned his eyes to Harry's, narrowing again. "You weren't -"

"No! God, Ron, no," Harry sat up straight and rose his hands in defense. Well, actually, him and Ginny already had children.

_Oh, no. _Harry had forgotten about them. But, they didn't exist. Or did they still in some other dimension? Was there a Harry there to be a father? He got lost in his thoughts and was brought back by Ron taking a seat next to him, the bed sinking with the weight. He looked up expectant.

His red-haired friend began questioning about the night before, Harry doing his best to answer without giving away too much. He spoke of everything that he had told Dumbledore and the others, but nothing that could reveal his true purpose here. And definitely not how he ended up…

Harry's eyes widened, mouth agape as the sudden realization plummeted into his stomach. He was just in the middle of explaining to Ron of the Occlumency lessons and how much 'fun' it had been being slammed into a cabinet. The thought came out of the blue, but it was something that had nagged at the edge of his mind. He knew the difference between Hermione's Time Turner and the sand timer he came into contact with.

Ron snapped a finger in his face which jolted his body back to the present. "Oye, mate, you sure you all right?" Blue eyes interrogated his friend, visibly concerned. "Maybe we should get down to breakfast. Food's always good for the spirit, they say."

Harry shook his head, scoffing. "S'what your mum says, you mean." Ron gave him a playful punch to his shoulder before standing up. Harry frowned. Ron's feet could touch the ground even while sitting on his bed. Only his toes could reach the bloody floor. Damn, stupid non-growth spurt. For a second, Harry pondered if there was such thing as a growth potion.

After a few more encourages from Ron, he finally got off his bed and got ready for the day, relishing in how much he missed the dorms. The sun was shining brightly through the windows, thought most of the beds were already empty, save Seamus. He was still snuggled in his beddings. Harry wondered vaguely why, as today was a free day. Most of the boys normally took as much sleep-in as possible.

Harry smirked, shrugging on his robes. Ever since he had gotten married, there was hardly any time to sleep those precious eight hours. He checked himself in the mirror, gave a small smile at the reflection, then hurried down the stairs after his best friend, coming to an abrupt halt at the bottom.

Glistening long red hair met his eyes at first, then with a quick _fwssh_ his heart stopped. The smile given to him made it beat again with renewed energy. He found himself grinning stupidly right back. She held out her hand and he took it instantly, not wanting to waste any time whatsoever.

"Breakfast?" the heavenly voice cooed and Harry nodded, taking note of his best friend gawking, disbelief and shock written on his face and open mouth. He smirked, allowing the woman of his dreams, and nightmares [but Harry pushed those negative thoughts to the side], to guide him to the Great Hall. Before the portrait closed behind him, he caught Hermione also standing just as bewildered at the two leaving, Ron turning to her to question, no doubt, if she knew about this. Then it was just him and his future wife. He squeezed her hand, and she did, too in return.

"Harry, could you stop staring? Please?" Oh, her voice begging was something Harry missed so much. He only could stare at her more from across the table, watching her lips move as she chewed, her fingers enveloping a biscuit and bringing it to her plate, plopping it so delicately. He gulped, watching her hands thread through her long hair before rising her eyes up into his, his heart slamming into its now usual rhythm each time she did that.

_It's because her eyes are no longer dead. That's what you've always wanted._

Ginny flushed, smiled, lidding her eyes and shaking her head. It caused a wave of red to cascade over her shoulders. Harry reached over and twirled a small section of her hair onto his finger and brought it to his lips, watching her watching him. He grinned at her stunned reaction, her face becoming the same color swirled around his fingertip.

Ginny sucked in her bottom lip and tore her eyes from the scene, placing her fork to the side. Harry freed the captive strands and went back to leaning his chin on his hands, gazing at the live beauty before him. Yes, he was going to make things right, now.

"Harry, I think you have some explaining to do." Harry almost cursed aloud at being interrupted, but held it in, turning to Hermione with a raised brow. She rolled her eyes, plopping down exasperatedly. "Ron-"

"Is coming," Ginny concluded, nodding at the entrance way where the boy marched through, his face contorted in an unreadable expression. She turned to Harry, offering a small smile. "Don't worry, I can handle my brother." Harry didn't argue, pulling himself up straight as Ron drew nearer, pausing beside his sister, then sliding in next to her.

Ron didn't look at Harry for a long time, but Harry kept his eyes locked on his friend, wanting to get this over with. Finally, blue eyes rose to meet his and Harry smiled. "Is it all right? I love her, Ron. I love her very much." He had been thinking this whole time what to say.

_And what better than to speak the truth?_

While Ginny had dropped her jaw to the confession not even made to her yet, his friend contemplated him, trying to read his inner thoughts. The two girls kept casting glances to each other and between the boys, wondering if they would need to intervene. Then Ron broke into a wide grin. "Of course, mate!" He reached across and slapped Harry on the shoulder, causing the immense burden on his back to dissipate. Harry smiled, finding that everything was going so smoothly it seemed heaven did exist.

"You better treat her good, though," Ron continued, pointing his finger at his now on the way to be brother-in-law. "I won't give you any exceptions, even if you are my best mate, if you treat her wrong."

Harry only laughed. "I will take care of her, even if it means my life."

Everyone stopped there, the surprise of Harry Potter committing himself to someone like this, at such an early age, and early stage for Ginny, was undeniably unbelievable. Ron only nodded, averting his eyes from those honest-to-God emerald orbs. "Right. That's all I ask. Well, not your life, I mean…you know, uh, yah, you know what I mean."

Ginny giggled, her brown eyes catching Harry's and she swore that the pull he was giving was certainly strange, like he had known her for most of her life. As if she were his life. She cleared her throat. That was a scary thought.

The four finished their breakfast, Harry retelling his story from the time he noticed something was wrong with Krum [here, Ron made a noise and Hermione nudging him to shut up], and then him and Cedric both grabbing the cup, to the revealing of Barty Crouch Junior, and then Snape forcing himself into his head.

At this part, Ron and Hermione chimed in their two cents; Ron arguing that the greasy git had no right to infiltrate his mind, Hermione seeing it as a better stand against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Ginny just listened, her hands intertwined with Harry's across the table, the dishes long disappeared.

They talked about what Voldemort would be planning next, Hermione betting her life on the fact he was going to do something even more drastic and for Harry to be extra careful. Harry only nodded.

Green eyes flickered back and forth between his two friends, noticing the difference from his time, to now. They were kids. He, Harry, was kid…again. He concentrated his sight at the hands in his, rubbing his thumb along the smooth skin. He thought briefly on his conclusion to the Time Turner and his time object.

Harry went through the day avoiding as much people as possible, though had run into Cedric who thanked him in silence and believed every word about You-Know-Who being back. The Hufflepuff wanted to talk more, but Harry told him he would share before school ended, which was in a week.

Everyone was seeing The-Boy-Who-Lived in a higher light. No news had gone around yet about the dealings with the strange occurrences that happened in the maze, Harry supposedly saving Cedric, and that a certain professor wasn't really their professor, but a different note had chimed amongst the student body: Harry Potter had shared the cup with Cedric Diggory. Or the other way around. The blasted Rita Skeeter's fault.

It didn't matter. Gryffindors saw it as a way of bonding. They were, after all, from the same school. Ravenclaws shrugged their shoulders, noting that no matter who, Hogwarts still won. Hufflepuffs admired the two, a bit too much. Slytherins, well, Slytherins will always be their Slytherinistic selves, giving cat calls behind him, whistling in an obscene way, or screeching in a sing-song voice, "Harry and Cedric standing in a maze, Harry letting Cedric have his ways~"

"Bet you shared more than just the Triwizard Cup, eh, Potter?"

"Haha! Looky at Potter, groveling on the ground, begging Cedric to give you some of the fame?"

There was a huge grammatical error in that stupid song they made, but he was too boiled up and wanting to curse the next green tart who sang that in his face one more time to give a shit.

He was walking in the hallways on his own now, Ginny getting pulled away by her friends to finish up some kind of project for their Transfiguration class, Hermione no doubt buried under a stack of books in the library reading up on Occlumency and Legilimency with Krum, and Ron flauntering about with that veela chick.

Harry didn't notice, but he had somehow made his way down to Hagrid's hut. He ventured off the path, not really wanting to talk to anyone yet, especially since there wasn't much to say. He needed to think. Lifting his hood over his head, Harry made his way behind his big friend's home, heading into the forest.

He strode through the open space between the trees and to the area where Hagrid had first showed them a Hippogriff. It seemed like forever since Harry had had such an experience with the majestic beast. Grinning, he recalled the flying sensation so much better than riding a broom, not that it made flying his broomstick any less exhilarating.

He stopped where he knew the Hippogriff and himself stood, staring each at each other. With a flick of his cloak and a swish of his hood, Harry sat cross-legged on the ground, robe spilling around him, head bent up to meet with the sun rays shining through the leaves. The warmth brushed past his cheeks, heated his wire-rimmed glasses, seeped into his scalp, down his back, across his arms, and all around him.

Ginny was alive, smilling . Cedric was alive. He was no longer 29 and a widower, but 14 and in the throes of dating. He glanced down at himself, fully noticing how scrawny he was. The lean muscles he had gained from auror training and carrying child after child, playing Quidditch with Ron and their other friends from the Ministry were gone, replaced with.. Harry pinched his skin, meeting bone instantly. Great. He must look like some skinny, weak bloke now.

Harry drew his bottom lip in between in his teeth. He had Occlumency lessons tonight. And every night until it was time to return home. He had made show of navigating through the halls to avoid a certain black-draping form, which he almost whacked into were it not for his Seeker reflexes. Maybe he shouldn't go to those blasted lessons?

_Oh, fuck. I forgot about the Dursley's. _He groaned aloud, sighing.

A cry screeched through the trees and Harry rose his head, viewing a snowy white owl who had been his companion since day one at Hogwarts in the blue sky overheard. She was heading to the Owlery, but suddenly nose-dived towards her master who was standing at the ready, arms out-stretched. Water brimmed in his eyes as Hedwig spread her wings and landed perfectly onto her master's arm, his free hand brushing her head instinctively.

Falling to the ground on his knees, the young Gryffindor buried his face into her feathers. The owl hooted affectionately, nipping gently at the stray strands risen on the boy's head. "Hedwig," he breathed into her chest, rising to place a small peck on her crown. "Oh, Merlin, I've missed you."

He pulled away and petted her, her wings fluttering, claws adjusting themselves on his arm. She could feel something wrong, but decided not to peck her master about it. He knelt there, staring at his precious friend back from the dead, petting her with feverish care, his tears pearling below his chin, splashing softly onto his jeans.

Finally, what seemed more than just half an hour, Harry dropped his petting hand to where a small rolled up parchment dangled, having neglected it to refill his loss with the beautiful owl. She stuck out her foot, and Harry obliged, fumbling with it as he untied it with one set of fingers.

The note freed, Hedwig hooted, ruffled her feathers, nipped Harry's nose and took off, no doubt wanting something to stave her hunger after a flight. He gazed after her, mesmerized by the pure beauty and stance of his owl, gliding across the sky effortlessly.

Harry slowly and regrettably turned his attention back to the parchment which began to unroll itself slightly after the ties dropped off. He pursed his lips and opened it.

**_Congrats!_**

**_Even after I said not to use your friend, she appeared at my door just the other day, pecking me to death. No matter, you have done well, my boy. Make sure you go to your lessons. Knowing you, you're probably thinking of a way to excuse from them. Don't. I'll be seeing you sooner than you think._**

**_Use a school owl next time. _**

**_-Padfoot_**

Harry stared blankly at the hastily scrawled script, another wave of nostalgia busting its way through Harry's chest. He coughed, sputtered, knuckled up his glasses to wipe grudgingly against the newly brimmed tears. How many times has he cried already?

_He's alive. He's bloody alive!_

Harry already knew this, because his godfather hadn't died until the coming year when he would stupidly follow after a ghost of Sirius played out by that evil prick. Not this time.

He folded the letter neatly, fondly, and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans, releasing a much needed sigh. The action brought a tremulous amount of weight on his shoulders to lift. His mind was set once again, inhaling the summer air whispering through the forest. He unfastened his robe and allowed it to fall, fluttering to the ground gracefully as his arms stretched out to his sides, head bent back to take in the sun.

The wind picked up as if on cue, rustling the fallen robes, whipping his untamed hair around, shirt flapping against his skin. He felt free for the first time in a long time. He lidded his green eyes from the glare bouncing off his spectacles, allowing himself to just feel the landscape around him.

Harry was so entrapped in himself that he didn't notice a certain dark form watching him off to the side behind the shadows of the trees, hidden from any sunlight, a tentative hand reaching out to claw at the tree it stood behind. Lips pulled back, showing a row of crooked, yellow-stained teeth, sneering, a wand pointed at the blissful Boy-Who-Lived.

* * *

><p><strong>A~N<strong>: I'm trying to get to the Snarry! Be patient! Dx This is proving harder than I thought~


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I Do Not Own Harry Potter. **

=he owns himself=

* * *

><p>Grey orbs penetrated his very soul under its scrutiny, searching for a reason to not believe what was just told a moment before. Snape did not move. Couldn't, being a better word. Maybe he should have just kept such an obtruse opinion to himself. It did seem implausible.<p>

The probing greys finally drifted down, Snape reclining into the plush chair, letting out a long, ragged breath. Albus closed his eyes as the Potions Master watched in silence, trying to come back to his surroundings, his mind slightly weakened after Dumbledore bore through him. Legs stretching out, arms falling softly to his sides, Snape controlled his breathing into a normaly, steady rate.

"Severus," the old man's thin lips whispered. It slammed hard into the Snape's chest, reawakening its pounding. Eyes peered over half-moon spectacles. "Drill the boy." An order. "We need to make sure-" Dumbledore's voice faltered, a tongue flitting out to wet dry lips.

That hardly happened and Snape felt his heart rate speed up dramatically, pulse beating against his ears, hands gripping the chair rests as he sat up in his seat. "The boy is hiding something, Severus. Something he is so keen on keeping a secret that he dare not tell even me. Find out what it is, and why," Dumbledore concluded with a flick of his wrist, rising from his seat to retreat to his sanctuary. The Headmaster's Pensieve pulled out from its holding place, Albus immediately placing two hands down on it, shoulders hunching, knuckles whitening from its strain of holding the Pensieve's sides.

"Sir-" Snape rose from his seat.

"Don't dawdle!" The roaring voice paused Snape in his movements, feeling his body jerk upright, black eyes widening. "If I...If you are correct in this assumption, and by all the gods I pray it is not so, I fear it is not just Voldemort we will be dealing with in these ludicrous times." Albus groaned, a curse flying out. "Stupid, idiotic, stubborn boy." The elder placed the tip of his wand to his temple, gently procuring now one of his most feared visions.

Snape stared at the stooped back of his Headmaster, swallowing. This was a first that Albus Dumbledore was ever this furious at his Golden Boy. What in the bloody wizarding world did Harry do?

Albus stared at the pearly white substance swirl and take shape, Harry's face contorted in a rich ecstasy as the boy crucioed Lestrange, Lily standing watch with horror and a powerful, useless urge to dive in and rescue her son from his madnes.

"Let us hope that these silly notions are but fleeting nightmares, my boy. Let us hope." The once almighty Albus Dumbledore looking worn and frayed, a tree about ready to give up its roots and timber to the ground.

Severus swept towards the door and went out, not caring for a glance back at the defeated looking Headmaster. That posture wouldn't do to calm his raging discouragements.

* * *

><p>Harry laid dazed in the Common Room, staring blankly at the spitting fire. He had been tackled to the ground during his freedom-finding time by none other than Fred himself, George following suit, belly-flopping on the two of them. The three of them had chatted consistently afterwards, Harry filling them in with everything he had shared with their brother, at times the twins interrupting with a retort or hilarious cut-in.<p>

_Fred's alive._

Recapping through lunch, Harry had gone back to staring at Ginny, relishing in her presence. She threw pumpkin juice at his face after the millionth time of telling him to stop his gawking. The love-struck boy only rolled his eyes and muttered, "Tergeo." Big mistake.

"Harry! When did you learn that spell?" Hermione spoke aloud everyone's thoughts in their friend-circle, eyeing the now dried-up Potter.

"You've become the object of fascination everywhere on everything, huh, Harry?" The twins chimed in unison, nudging each other at how their friend was fast becoming a great wizard with such a small spell. Ron shook his head, no doubt thinking Harry was spending too much time with their ginger-haired friend.

Ginny only smiled, which made Harry think he had done the best trick so far, making his wif-err-girlfriend proud of him.

_She's still beautiful. _

Lost in his thoughts again, the now young Gryffindor rolled onto his back, eyes darting to the ceiling. He had wanted to see Hagrid before heading to the dreaded dungeons, but McGonagall had told him his friend needed to help tend the dragons and the Beaubaton's Headmistress' horses. He scoffed.

Hagrid probably just wanted to spend as much time as possible before his giant girlfriend headed back to her school.

A spark flew from the fire. Harry turned in time to see another flick out. Then another. Then a quiet _thwack _as something flew right into Harry's face. He caught the parchment before it hit the floor, rubbing the spot the paper's edge caught between his eyes, just above his glasses. Something fell, plopping softly on the carpeted floor. It was something round and hard covered in yellow wrappings. A lemon drop.

Mouth twitching into a small smile, Harry began reading the neatly scripted note.

**_Harry-_**

**_Do not forget your lessons tonight. Professor Snape will be awaiting your arrival at 7 o'clock sharp. Do not be late. This is for the best._**

As usual, no signature was given, but Harry knew who it was from, just by the small gift.

Geez, everyone was on his case about attending these stupid lessons. Honestly, Harry didn't want to go back. He was planning on ditching, but as he rolled the small piece of candy between his fingers, he knew that he couldn't betray the words from the one person he highly respected. Dumbledore sure knew how to get under his skin.

"Damn. And to think I missed him." He did, though, smiling as he ran up the stairs into the boys' dormitory to take a much needed shower.

* * *

><p>Dinner ended briefly, Dumbledore announcing the next day that both visiting schools will be departing back to their homes. Hagrid looked forlorn, Hermione positively elated to finally be freed from a certain red-caped Champion, and Ron sighing in despair. Harry stared at his goblet, watching the gold glint in the charmed candlelight floating above their heads.<p>

He looked up, taking in a sharp breath at the scene. Dumbledore had done his magic again. Purple, blue, green, yellow, pink, and white streams floated in tumbles above the floating candles. Stars glistened amongst the waves of colors. The scene looked much like an event what the Muggles called the Aurora Borealis. Harry learned in his fourth year, this year, it was simply the calling of witches and wizards around the world about the Quidditch Cup.

Dinner carried on as usual, Ron stuffing his already crammed mouth, Hermione battering him to stop acting like a pig, Seamus chittering about how awesome it would be to blow up something big and huge. Just go BOOM! Harry smirked sadly. The explosive boy had no idea how close he was to actually doing such a thing.

Nearly Headless Nick sauntered through the table from the end, not caring about who his spirit filtered into, sending shocks and grumbles of cold across the Gryffindor table. He was just passing the Golden Trio before abruptly stopping in front of Harry.

Green eyes looked back with a brow arched, as Harry did a slight nod of his head. "Hey."

They stared at each other a long while before the transparent being clicked an unseen tongue. "Boy," the ghost spoke roughly, "you're teetering on a very much broken bridge. It would do best to go back from where you came from." And off the ethereal form drifted, not pausing to look back, inclining his head, which fearfully wobbled, to other spirits he passed.

Harry stared after him, mouth partly open.

"What was that about?" Ron spoke aloud Harry's own thoughts. He could only give his friend a shrug of his shoulders. The red-head dropped a few more pieces of chicken legs onto his friend's plate. "C'mon, mate. You need to eat more, what with having that greasy git getting into your mind and all."

"Sorry, I don't like stuffing my face like you do, Ron," Harry joked, earning him a sharp jab into his shoulder. He winced. "Yeah. Right. Deserved that."

* * *

><p>The dungeons were never going to be a warm place. Never. The torches made shadows dance and crawl along the walls as Harry made his way back to the accursed assignment. Just five more days of this, and he'll be free to do whatever he so desired.<p>

_I'll be with Sirius! _He kept that thought in his mind. He needed to bring his Occlumency up to par before stepping through those doors, and so decided to focus on his godfather, whom he so desired to see at this point.

The soft clicking of his shoes against the ground made it uneasy in the pressuring silence. His robes whisked, his hair shifted, and even his bones creaking were maximized to a _sonorus _charm. This wasn't good. Anymore, and he should just very well tell Snape everything himself. No, he needed to gain control.

He stood in front of the doors longer than necessary, wondering if he should knock, or turn tail and run like hell out of the castle, out of the grounds, out of this…place.

_No. No giving up. Besides, you wouldn't know how to return, now would you?_

Gulping, Harry rapped his knuckles, pausing after three hits to breathe, then pursuing another set of three. Before he could work on his third, the door swung open revealing a bent-over shape on the front desk, quill twitching in its owner's hand. With a quick flick of the man's wrist, eyes never leaving the parchment before them, the door slammed shut behind Harry. The boy jumped at the sound even knowing what is was.

_Calm down, Harry. C'mon, mate, you know how to do this. Calm the fuck down._

Snape continued his relentless scribbling, head rising briefly to look at the boy and gesture with a nod to a seat in front of the desk, then diving back into his work. Harry obliged, sliding into the chair with unease, the creaking of its hinges being annoyingly loud. Snape made no notice of it.

Harry took this time to twiddle his thumbs and engrossed hismself to bring his shields up. He knew how to do it, that's why Snape had not infiltrated his mind until Harry had found himself to the point of exhaustion. He could not let that happen tonight.

"Potter." Black eyes moved around the desk, hands reaching out to stack up the stray parchments littered across the table. Harry turned to the professor. "I have noticed your sudden interest in a red head recently." He set them into two piles, hitting the edges into a neat bundle, then placing them to the side. "Could this have anything to do with that 'dream' I saw last night?"

Snape straightened himself, hands coming to front of him, left relaxing on right. He stared at Harry, green eyes never deterring. The bastard brought that up and now all his concentrating just crashed. He was being tried. So be it, two can play that game.

After a long while, he spoke. "Sir," Harry mocked the cool snide voice of his professor's. Snape caught it, eyes narrowing. Harry continued, orbs glittering behind spectacles. "Are we going to be staring at each other all night, or are we going to prevent Voldemort from intruding my mind?"

A sneer crawled its way onto Snape's lips, the man rising up in a cascade of black robes, and whirled around, the tails of his robes swishing with a whisper across the cold floor, striding to the end of the room where a door appeared. Harry followed, a snort playing out his nose. He looked up to find that his professor heard it.

"In, Potter." The git's tone had gone darker. _Shit. I forgot how mad he can get._

He made his way past Snape who held the door open, finding himself once again in the small, claustrophobic space. Well, it wasn't too bad, just not enough room to get flung about in.

"Sit." Harry did as he was told, wiggling himself into the uncomfortable seat that had been up righted since his last visit, eyes anywhere but on the man before him. He had to admit, he was damn nervous.

_It's because you have secrets now, secrets you can't afford losing._

Clearing his throat, gripping the sides of the chair, he flickered his eyes up to Snape's who stood watching him, wand already twisting between his thin, white fingertips. The scowl had not left his structured appearance. They stared, greens into blacks, blacks into greens, the agonizing sound of the pads of fingers brushing against black wood slithered through the silence.

Then, the wand was pointed at him and with no delay, Snape's slow whisper of the spell slammed Harry into the back of the chair, dangerously balancing on two feet.

He was on the floor again, panting, wheezing, sweating, unfocused, glasses strewn somewhere across the ground. He had flailed at one point in this two hour escapade while the constant dreams of Ginny dead in his arms replayed over and over, Snape being witness each and every bloody time. Harry scrambled across the cold floor, frantic fingers finding what they wanted, and he shoved his glasses back on.

"Potter. I cannot help but wonder," his professor began walking around him in slow, steady circles, a mock smile in place. His voice tuned low and taunting, begging the boy to give up already. "That these _dreams _of yours are very…compliant to your wishes of the future." He stopped behind Harry, gazing at the Gryffindor's unruly mess of rug hair.

_So like him._

He grimaced, rolling his distaste of the look-alike in front of him over his tongue. "I have watched you stare at her like some kind of love sick puppy, groveling at her every move. That look of yours is not becoming of such a grandeur Golden Boy such as yourself." He laughed through his nose, mouth twitching upward as the boy spun around with enraged eyes.

_So easy to play with._

But, those eyes, they gleamed with something more than just anger. No, Severus could see deeper beyond that as the boy's shoulders lifted and fell with controlled defense. He watched as Harry spoke, seething through each syllable. "I am NOT some love sick puppy." Harry pulled his lips into a Slytherinish sneer. "You should know that, Snape. You loved my mother after all."

Snape froze, eyes wide. Harry knew he was throwing a cheap shot at the guy, but this was the only way he could see of getting his ass out of this room and ensuring his secrets, and stopping that God awful pain of remembering. And, Snape scorned his love for Ginny. That was a low blow. He was driven to tear the man to pieces, kind of low blow.

"Yes, I know about you and how much you _loved _my mother. Lily Evans. The woman who gave me these eyes!" Harry stood up then, challenging Snape, pointing a finger to his emerald glare. "My eyes! Haha! How does it feel, seeing me wear your requited love's most beautiful asset in the form of my father's?" He raged, throwing his hands up, calling Snape to defend himself. The latter could only gape in disbelief in stunned silence, wand twitching in his hands.

Harry kept on, finger pointing to the Potion Master's chest, eyes riveting with malice . "You blame me for loving Ginny like some puppy? Well," he threw his head back and laughed scornfully. "At least she's fucking alive, seeing as you STILL FUCKING LOVE MY MOTHER WHO'S DEAD! DEAD, SNAPE, DEAD! GINERVA ISN'T, AND SHE WILL NEVER BE SO LONG AS I'M ALIVE!"

With that, Harry shoved his way past Snape, eyes already near to spilling out their water. He was not counting on a firm hand to grip his wrist and twist him back around, forcefully dragging Harry to face that abominable look, the look of sheer malevolence and repute, loathing and reproachful.

Wide-eyed and slacked, a hot breath grazed Harry's cheeks, brushing at a strand of hair plastered to his forehead. He did not see the hand rising. He did not hear the words forming on the man's lips. All he could read was a fathomless darkness behind those obsidian orbs, driving him to the ends of Merlin only knew. And then, he was screaming, not because of physical pain, but because for the upteenth time that night, Ginny was dead in his arms.

* * *

><p><em>Harry turned the gold band countless of times on his finger, his throat no longer able to swallow. He had just watched his heart, soul, and life slowly descend into the ground before concrete pallets covered her coffined form. <em>

_Dead. _

_He stared at the freshly made grave, the scents of gardenias and lilies mixed with the cold aroma of…_

_Dead._

_Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had taken the children, wanting Harry to have some time alone, and Harry happily accepted, not wanting his sons and daughter to see him like this. To see him weak and unbearably useless. He knelt down, knees meeting pavement, and reached out to run his fingertips along the elegantly crafted gravestone letters spelling_

**_Here Sleeps _**

**_GINERVA "GINNY" MOLLY POTTER_**

**_Beloved Mother, Daughter, Sister, and Wife_**

**_August 11, 1981 - December 15, 2007_**

**"_We won't forget your bat-bogey hexes!"_**

_Harry laughed, choking on a sob as his fingertips danced on the quote. James had wanted that the most seeing Ginerva would always hex him a good one whenever he picked on Albus. It was, without a doubt, a loving memory of a son to his mother. _

_Wisps of clouds overshadowed and the scene changed, morphing into a vast landscape. Harry was holding his newly pronounced wife amongst endless rows of sunflowers, gardenias, lilies, and a multitude of wildflowers in a large field of green, the sun high above them, akin to their restless hearts and spirited bodies. _

_Harry broadly grinned as Ginerva swirled around, the white fitting dress of her bridal circling her frame, beckoning the tall reeds and flowers into her dance, her red hair whirling in a blur of color. Her husband stood transfixed at the sight, unbelieving that this most angelic creature was now his, had given herself to him…till death do them apart. An ache resided in his chest at that word. Perhaps he should have kept that stone._

_Blazing brown eyes took him in and she reached out for him, wanting her love to hold her, need her, catch her, love her, and Harry saw no point in arguing against that. _

_The chapter closed, another wispy grey form banishing the couple to put in place a loudly pronounced cry of a baby, screeching from its birth. _

_Another flash, and Harry was reaching over a small crib, tickling his newborn son. A soft voice came from behind him. Turning around, he saw his wife leaning against the doorframe, drenched in sweat. No doubt she had just gotten back from Quidditch practice. No matter. The sweat just amplified her already seducing form. _

_Ginny caught Harry's roaming eyes and walked slowly up to him, arms enveloping them securely around a toned waist. "Like what you see?" she purred, licking her lips._

_Harry groaned, but before he could react, a cry erupted from the crib. Looking down, they noticed their son kicking his legs and fisting the air, eyes welded shut under an unruly mass of light brown tufts. Ginny pulled from her husband and leaned over, picking up the swaddled infant and hoisting him into her chest where she cooed and hummed to the boy. Their son quieted at once, his tiny hands gripping a stray strand of red. Harry watched, dazed, loving, hardly noticing he was holding his breath. So…beautiful…_

* * *

><p>"STOP!" the Boy-Who-Lived rose his hands, body trembling, voice cracking, eyes straining behind lopsided frames to hold the water it so threatened to release, shirt completely drench of his perspiration. "Stop… God, please…stop.." He begged, desperate for the memories to disappear along with that wretched black form standing above him. He was breaking, and Snape knew it. How he fucking hated that.<p>

Harry scrambled backwards as Snape took a step towards him, slamming into the all too familiar potions cabinet, the wind being forced out from his lungs at the impact, pain slicing through his spinal column. He didn't care. He didn't want that fucking git to be within an inch of him, or even a mile. But, in this room, he didn't have much of a choice, or the strength.

He kept his eyes on the booted feet which paused at his frantic desperation, and cursed at himself for being this vulnerable. He closed his eyes, controlling the best he could of his rabid breathing rhythms.

_Calm. Get calm, fucktard. Stay calm. Calm…_

Silence.

Dead silence.

Then a sound of robes.

Snapping his eyes open, Harry found himself staring straight into cold, black orbs mere inches away. He slammed himself backwards again, knees coming up to his chest, palms at his sides flat on the ground, poised to rise fast if the need came. "Don't," he whispered, pleading.

He wasn't quick enough. "Legilimens." Harry swore within that millisecond before being wrenched back into his memories, Snape sounded defeated, but the thought was gone just as quick as it came.

* * *

><p><em>Flash!<em>

_Sirius was laughing, head thrown back amidst the ongoing battle raging around them. "Get em', James!" He cried, roaring curse after hex towards the dark cladded lot. Harry turned to his godfather, a small smile of pity and recognition to Sirius' mention of his father lightly gracing his features. _

_The animagus turned to him then, grinning madly despite the commotion about them. It was picture perfect; dark eyes alight, teeth showing in a magnificent joyous shout, provoking Lestrange of her aiming capabilities._

_And it all ended there, a red spark hitting him square in the chest from the person he was taunting, eyes wide with surprise. Ghostly tendrils from the arch behind him cradled him into their arms as he fell back, dark eyes locked with greens which could only watch in mute horror._

_Flash!_

_Remus' and Tonk's bodies lay unmoving, fingers entwined with the other's. It would seem to almost any other onlooker that they were simply sleeping the day away amongst rubble and falling bricks. _

_Flash!_

_George screamed, gripping his look-alike's head into his lap, crying openly with feverish attempts to call his twin back from the dead. Mother and father held onto their howling son, sister and youngest brother holding each other, the others standing, heads bowed, hands covering their faces, trembling._

_Flash!_

_Colin Creevey lay with eyes wide open, wand inches from his outstretched hand, body sprawled. His camera peeked out from its hiding place within his robes._

_Flash!_

* * *

><p>Harry wrenched forward, hands catching him at his shoudlers. He was blubbering, sniveling, groping the offending arms to let him go. "Don't.. no more, Merlin, God, no more! NO MORE!"<p>

He felt the hands shake him roughly, but he pushed against the body that was too close for comfort, his back pressed harshly against the cabinet. "Go away! Leave me the fuck alone!"

"Language, Potter!" Snape roared, bringing the boy halfway back to his senses. Pleading, sorrowful green eyes peered up behind a disheveled mop of hair and frames. Snape grabbed with amazing reflexes at a hand that almost reached into its pocket, no doubt, for its wand. "Don't…even _think _about it," he growled menacingly.

Harry shrunk, now two of his hands captured in a vice grip above his head held by a single potions professor's clutch. He had half the mind to spit in that deceitful man's face, but stopped any train of thoughts as the older man's wand came to tap at his cheek. His eyes narrowed hatefully at it.

"You, Mr. Potter, are hiding something. Something that I will find out very soon." Harry groaned, back arching.

"No more. Please, I'll tell you. I'll bloody tell you! Just don't..don't…" Snape did not listen. Even as his eyes, for a brief moment, held pity and shame, he quickly recovered and released the final thread.

"Legilimens."

* * *

><p><em>Dumbledore's body fell back in the vast darkness, arms splayed, white strands obscuring wrinkles and pain. Snape stood, arm out, wand pointed as the body disappeared over the edge. Lestrange cackled gleefully, applauding the absolute wondrous display of death. <em>

_Flash!_

_Ginny lay in his arms, cold, unmoving, dead. Her glazed stare at the stars never faltering. _

_Flash!_

_Snape's blood spilled onto his hands, warm liquid ghosting his right arm as it traveled down his elbow, plopping onto his jeans. He watched as the man kept his eyes on him, a phial catching the falling tears of memories. _

_He pulled away, corking it, staring at the swirling translucent substance before a hand gripped the front of his shirt and yanked him forward. "Look…at…me…" Emeralds flickered up to meet obsidians, a moment passed, Harry never letting his eyes fall away from the Potions Master. Those dark eyes revealed something Harry never before saw in all his life with this man: _

_longing and love. _

_And it was gone, hand dropping, dead._

* * *

><p>"NOOOOOO!" Snape was shoved out of the boy's mind forcefully, and painfully. He held his head between his hands, gathering all the scenes he just witnessed into an understanding. He was on his bum, air raggedly coursing through his mouth and into his lungs where they were much needed.<p>

There was a sound, hiccupping, gasps, wheezes, and Snape looked up to see the boy curled into a cocoon, arms protectively clinging to his shoulders, glasses askew, eyes screwed shut, body rising and falling in dry heaves.

My, God, Snape had driven the boy mad, mad enough to cry in front of even his hated professor. Harry rocked himself on the floor, screaming, hollering, wanting the nightmares to stop, and Snape made no move to comfort him, just sat there, on knee up, his other leg crooked underneath. He leaned forward on one hand, fingers spread across the floor, his other resting neatly on his up righted knee, wand lightly held between two fingers.

Snape watched and watched what seemed to be hours on end, but a simple five minutes, before erecting himself from the floor and squatting in front of the shaking Gryffindor. The boy still rocked himself, glasses barely on his face now, sputtering inaudible noises, eyes, face and hair damp with wetness.

Cursing himself, Snape reached and gently touched the boy's head. Harry flung his eyes open, breath hitching. Snape pursed his lips, brows furrowed. Haunting emeralds searched him, before thin lips parted, beseeching, choking. "I-I…I don't want anyone to die. No one…N-no one should die…" Thick brows came together in agony. "No one, professor. Not even you." His last sentence came in a soft, desperate whisper.

Teardrops fell freely down the young boy's face, eyes deceiving his real age. All the misery, emptiness, the feeling of being left alone in this fucked up world reflecting in that emerald gaze which held fast to inky blacks. Snape could not find himself to reply, worse, even speak. His voice left when his eyes became trapped.

Harry shuddered, finally turning his sights to the floor, a fist coming up to bump his glasses back into place, nose sniffling loudly. He spoke in a hoarse whisper. "I'd like to go back to my room, please." Another sniff. "We've been at it for hours. My brain's all mushed."

"Your mind is not the only thing that has been raddled, Potter," Snape answered tersely, lips pulled back, eyes locked onto the hunched form. "Be that as it may, you are permitted to leave. Go, before I change my mind I decide to interrogate you here and now, with or without your consent."

Harry glanced up to his potion's professor, eyes revealing a certain thankfulness. Snape snorted, standing back up and turning on his heel. With a rustle of clothing and rummaging behind him, the boy ran past him.

"You are to come back here the same time, Potter! No tardiness will be tolerated despite your obscene actions tonight!" Snape shouted at the retreating form which had already gone out the door before he ended. He heard his classroom doors slam shut, and Snape finally collapsed onto the desk, hands splayed across the counter, head bowed, eyes shuttering close, an exasperated sigh blowing in the air.

Inwardly, deep within the recesses of his mind, Snape wanted Potter to be late tomorrow night. Better yet, not come at all. How did you face a person who just witnessed you dying, be it nightmare or no, and found yourself pleading to that said person to look into their eyes only because they mirrored your lost love?

Dumbledore better be able to explain all of this, because for once in his life, Snape didn't know what the fuck to do.

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><p>So. Uhm. Yeah. Uhm. Reviews? Hehe~ D;<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: HARRY POTTER does not belong to me. Sadly. -I'll go cry now-**

SORRY! I had forgotten to add this disclaimer in as well, just in case:

**Disclaimer- I do not own Blink182. Anything used of theirs within this story is simply fan-made. duh.**

**SONG USED - ALL THE SMALL THINGS **

This chapter is mostly sap. Warning. It is terribly slow-moving, and I apologize for it. But, no matter how fast I try to make it, the story takes over on its own and I'm in its mercy. ;[

* * *

><p>A cold hand slithered into the Death Eater's trembling hand, making it flinch uncomfortably. The hand direly wanted to yank free as the impossibly smooth fingers grasped onto larger ones.<p>

"You know what you must do, Wormtail," a menacing hiss pierced the frightened, stout servant's chest. Tiny digits curled over a space where a pinky used to be. Wormtail grimaced, whimpering pathetically, head bowed, knees aching, bent on the marble floor.

"Y-Ye-Yes..M-M-Master…a-a-a-a-anything f-f-f-f-fffor you," he stuttered, spittle flicking from between his two abnormally large teeth.

The grotesque form slid its cold tips to trace its mark along the man's skin, deserving a much relished shiver of fear vibrating through his touch. The tattoo squirmed and writhed achingly, wanting to be used by its Master, and now.

"_Patience, my love," _the creature hissed lovingly, speaking in a tongue recognizable only by sound to the servant's ears. The mark swirled fondly along the small finger pressed against it, almost sensually. Thin strips of grey flesh pulled back to reveal a row of stained, sharp teeth.

Even in this form he held power. Much power. But not enough. Never enough. The magically inked snake felt its Lord quiver in resentment and flickered a tongue around the probing pointer affectionately. Voldemort closed his eyes in content, finding solice with his own mark.

"Go now, Wormtail. Do not fail me this time." The hand retreated and the form shrunk back into its overly large robes.

His servant leaned back on his heels, head still bowed, lifted himself from the floor with a grunt. "Y-yes, My Lord. I-I will have h-h-his blood in my p-p-ossession wh-when I return." And he was off, scampering down the stairs, turning on the spot right out the door, and disappearing with a sounding _crack!_

* * *

><p>"ALL THE! SMALL THINGS! TRUE CARE! TRUTH BRINGS!" Harry air-guitared with his wand which produced a thrum of offkey beats, his tie undone and swinging while his head headbanged to the imaginary music thrumming in his memory, jumping on the bed as he sang, err shouted, away. Greg and Fred bounced in time on the bed along with him, the twins playing the drums and bass with their wands. Ron, Seamus, and Neville remained on the floor, hooting and hollering, jumping and dancing, fists pounding into the air.<p>

"I'LL TAKE! ONE LIFT! YOUR RIDE! BEST TRIP! ALWAYS! I KNOW!" Harry's voice cracked, but he raged on, roaring even louder, throat straining with the pressure. "YOU'LL BE AT MY SHOW! WATCHING! WAITING! COMMISERATING!" He crowed, fingers dancing on unseen strings of his wand-guitar. "EVERYONE!"

"SAY IT AIN'T SO! I WILL NOT GO! TURN THE LIGHTS OFF! CARRY ME HOME!" the boy's dorm chorused, the walls shaking with the voices not even _sonorused. _And like some punk rock concert, they all jumped in place all at the same time.

"NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA! NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA! NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA! NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA!"

The boys continued the song that Harry had just introduced them to. He had found about it during his rabid attempts of surfing the internet when Mr. Weasley had wanted to know what a 'laptop' could do and became very interested in 'the web', probably thinking it some kind of spider science thing or whatever. This was when he was already betrothed to Ginerva, and Albus was on the way. Now, he was very intrigued to share this song, and rock the day away with his friends.

_Yes. Smile and be happy. Forget whatever happened last night._

The song came to a finale, Harry jumping up one last time and landing on his back, gut in pain from laughing, head throbbing from singing so loudly. The boys decided then to take a walk around the castle and seek for potential interests that they could aim for the next school year. Of course, most of this idea branched from the twins.

Ron immediately went in search for the horde of Beauxbatons', Hermione and Ginny joining them soon after he left.

The day drifted by quickly, too quickly for Harry's taste. During breakfast and lunch, he sat next to Ginny instead of in front of her, needing to feel her closeness instead of just staring at it. Their hands only left each other's when he had returned back to the boys' dormitory in pursuit of rocking with his friends, or when she had wanted to chat with fellow Gryffindors about Quidditch and randomly pull Hermione to the side. Harry could only guess what the two were talking about.

The time came for the schools to leave, much to Hermione's exuberant sigh of relief, even though Krum offered her a piece of parchment. She casually smiled, nodding, and Harry found traces in that twitching lips of his friend that she was not at all interested. He kissed her hand and followed the crowd of his fellow students back to their ship, once or twice looking back to offer Hermione a coy smile and a wave.

Ron had been kissed on the cheek by the girl of his dreams and stood their gawking, stuttering, Fleur Delacour grinning broadly and spinning in a flourish, pulling her littler sister along with her, babbling away in a language neither boys could grasp a hold on. The girl's melodious voice only caused Ron to make a ridiculous face of fascination. Harry had to stifle a laugh.

Before long, the three made their way to a small balcony, other students milling around to watch the schools disappear either in water or into the sky. Voices cried out their farewells, both genders alike: girls to the Durmstrangs, boys to the Beauxbatons.

Harry grinned, Hermione slipping her hands into both of the boys' grips, squeezing.

"Just another day, huh?"

Ron smirked, his face red, probably because of the hand holding his. Harry turned to his friend, eyes alight. "Just another day, Hermione."

She smiled, her big brown eyes lighting up. She seemed so different, more innocent than how Harry remembered her in his future. Then, she had gone through so much, death and despair all around the three of them. He turned to Ron who was staring at the two of them, brow raised. Harry chuckled, and reached over with his free hand to roughly mess up the red hair.

"Oye!"

Hermione burst with laughter then, Harry joining in, Ron shaking his head, but a most clear sign of his lips turning upward.

_This is it. No hurt or pain._

* * *

><p>The old man was fidgeting behind his desk, eyes surveying him like some piece of meat. He might as well be, the way he was pushed to most of his limits in this game of his. Finally, grey eyes lowered themselves onto the table where wiry fingers twisted among themselves.<p>

It was a while longer before a coarse whisper played across the man's lips. "My boy, this is very grave news indeed."

Snape moved, slouching slightly into the chair, one leg sticking out, hands clasped over his thighs, head lolled to one side. "You did say, Headmaster, to 'drill the boy'." His words drawled, unsurprising.

Silvery hair bobbed as Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, yes, I did." He pulled his hands back, taking them off the table to place them on his knees, gripping. "He will fight back." Snape knew this. "It is a possibility that he will not come tonight." Snape also knew this. "And, if we are right in our assumption, he will know what to do next."

Here, Snape had difficulty mapping out his actions. Because, it was merely an 'assumption', he could not very well act on it. He needed proof. However, if what they had been dawdling on became a fact, Headmaster and Potion's Professor alike would be taking on, quite literally, the future.

Of course, said factor being Harry bloody Potter, the stakes were very high on being accurate. Snape slowly began to speak.

"If, and I do not know how much of an emphasis I need to stress on that word, _IF_, by some dark incantation or otherwise inconclusive magic Potter has managed to manipulate time without bringing his future self along with him, instead _implanting _himself in his would-be younger form, by which I must again stress that is highly improbable and most likely one of the best ways to land oneself into Azkaban for being one of the Darkest magic clearly equal to the Dark Lord himself, how do you suggest we approach this topic to the boy himself?"

Dumbledore remained silent, eyes unmoving on his twining fingers. Snape continued. "What makes you so _sure _that Potter is, as you say he is, from the future? Could it not be a happening akin to Sybill's ability of the-"

"I have already digressed into that sort of situation," the old man's words cut through Snape's sentence. He pursed his lips to silence himself. The Headmaster kept on, frozen in his position. "It was one of my first guesses, my boy, and it quickly became just that, a guess, as what I found later might even turn your bones into rubble." Grey eyes finally flickered up to meet a black stare which abruptly faltered.

Snape gripped the edges of the chair, knuckles turning white. He had taken that as a challenge. Damn Dumbledore for knowing his weaknesses. Well, most of them anyway. "Show me."

Dumbledore peered over his glasses. "Very well."

* * *

><p>Harry picked away at the food on his plate. Neither Dumbledore nor Snape were seated at the Head Table. This agitated him more than anything. It narrowed down to one reason: Snape had shared everything to the Headmaster, and being as highly knowledgeable as he, Dumbledore was narrowing down the facts pronto.<p>

There was a light grip in his left hand and Harry turned to meet bright brown eyes, eyes that showed so much emotion Harry could lose himself in them. "S'nothin', love." Ginny nibbled on her bottom lip, pouring Harry over the edge, having to hold himself back from ravishing her then and there.

He had to remind himself that he was no longer a grown man, married, and caring for children. No. He could not hold Ginny as how he so wanted to at this moment. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her lightly on her soft cheek, his breath brushing at stray red strands.

She stilled under his touch, her breath matching his, pulse equally falling into rhythm. They stayed that way, Harry's temple gently resting against red, Ginny's nestled in a muss of brown. Green orbs lidded heavily, the blinking reflections of candlelight dulling away his senses, and the lush smell of vanilla and sweat. That sweet reminder of his beloved slamming hard into his chest, so rabid, so forceful, Harry had to once again regain control of his ever ravaging mind.

"Ahem."

Harry blinked, ruefully pulling away from his sacred home. Everyone was staring at them. Blushing, Ginny fidgeted beside him, a small wave of tension caught in the drift of embarrassment. Harry smirked, though, he too held color in his cheeks.

Hermione simply looked away. Ron had his arms crossed, one brow arched. The twins were mimicking the two love birds; Fred leaned on George's shoulder, their eyes finding each other's, sighing in content. Fred threaded his fingers into his twin's, who reacted by pulling him close.

Both Harry and Ron blanched, leaning over the side of the table to make a scene of throwing up. The girls laughed, egging the boys on, Hermione not so much.

Dinner continued in a more delightful manner, both red head and time wizard catching furtive glances, throwing coy smiles at each time, a slight squeeze of a hand to ensure that smile. Ron caught some of these and simply groaned, murmuring something about lovesickness and all that mushy stuff.

"Should be bloody limited," he had once grumbled out amongst shoving his mouth stock full with random pieces of various pies that now littered the table. Harry had only chuckled, shaking his head. Their hands were getting sweaty.

_Sweat. Oh, shit. Bad thought. Go away. Go away now._

To make matters worse, Ginny wriggled her fingers, probably wanting to flex them. It caused an unwanted reaction below Harry's belt. Gawds, the girl had no idea how much of a turn on she was to him. Everything. Every bloody thing about her was just…

_Fuck._

His red-head beauty turned to him, brows drawn together. "What's wrong?"

Harry cursed himself. He just _had_ to groan out loud. "N-nothing."

"'Ee's gawt dat batty git lattah dis evenin'," Ron spoke up, food unnecessarily sputtering out of his jam-packed mouth. Hermione gave him a sound one on the shoulder, earning more spittle to come forth as the red head bloke argued against her brutality.

"No, mate. Don't think there's going to be a, err, lesson…tonight." Harry nodded up at the staff's table, Professor McGonagall just in time to turn her head and meet his eyes. He immediately dropped his gaze to the plate in front of him, free hand scratching his neck.

There was a light gasp on his right. "Both of them?" came Hermione's concerned whisper.

Harry only nodded, eyes rooted to his empty plate. Ron made a scoffing noise. More like attempted to; while pigging out, the 'scoffing' came out more of a guttural intake of breath. "Can't beleef Dumbledorrs sho trushtworthy ov' dat bat. Honeestly, 'ee's wun I would nevar twust."

"Harry, there's a lot of things I know you're keeping me out of the loop of, but," Ginny's ringing voice purred lightly into his ears, deserving all of his attention. "But, whatever is going on, I'm here for you. All right? I…" she looked away, tucking a lock of red behind her ear. "I, well, yeah…"

The Boy Who Lived merely clutched her hand, knowing full well the meanings behind her actions. "I know." She turned to him, face the color of beets, a small quirk of her lips making his turn upward.

"Good," she replied, mouth grinning in response to his smile.

Harry was damn well the luckiest person alive.

* * *

><p>The fireplace flickered as usual, the cackling sound drifting Harry slowly into a peaceful state. He fought to keep his eyes open. A small parchment lay crumpled in his right palm, dangerously teetering on the edge of falling through his fingertips.<p>

Green eyes glistened gold and dark emerald, heavily lidded. It was well pass midnight; the common room completely empty except for him. He had found the letter waiting for him in Snape's class, a hastily scribbled note that read:

**Lesson is cancelled. Will resume tomorrow night. Do not be late.**

_What the hell could Dumbledore and Snape be doing? After tonight, they would all be heading home in two days! _

Harry had fought with himself for the past two hours about this after bidding Ginny goodnight, holding himself back from snogging the life out of her. They had not kissed since that night. No, he would wait until he deemed himself controlled enough for such a feat. Instead, he offered light kisses on her forehead or cheeks, on occasion, hair.

When his friends had disappeared behind closed doors after his tellings of what happened the night before and the letter which waited for him at Snape's office, he found himself staring at the fireplace, a habit he grew after Ginny's…

_Well, she's not dead anymore, now is she?_

But, old habits die hard.

Sighing, his chest rising and falling with the sound, Harry closed his eyes, finding solace in the warmth the fire brought to his chilled skin. He did not hear the soft footsteps of someone approaching. However, he did feel the couch cave in and hot breath riding down along the nape of his neck.

Jerking upright, Harry realized his glasses had somehow fallen off, the letter no longer in his hand as he pushed himself to level with the one on top of him. Long, silky strands of reflecting red hair graced against his arms, a pale face looking down on him.

Harry caught his breath. "G-Ginny?"

He could barely make out her smile, but he knew she was, her head bowing down and kissing him square on the lips, light and feathery at first. Then, with much reluctance and overpowered will, Harry crushed their lips roughly together, Ginny responding with the most beautiful sound; moaning in pleasure and need.

That became Harry's undoing, his lips wantonly lavishing hers, tongue licking, begging for entrance and she obliged. His arms automatically went around her waist, coaxing her down onto his body, and she moved, arms snaking behind his neck.

Oh, the ache that was in Harry's gut now. He bucked into her, and she cried out, not too loud, but just enough for Harry to do it again and again. He arched his neck back, groaning, greeted by a nip and suckle to his now exposed neck. "Ginny-" he whispered, fearing the loss of his voice.

"Yes?" she whispered back, continuing her exploration of the boy's collarbone. He bucked a few more times, shocked when she straddled him and pushed his body down into the couch and kissed him with such passion, such force, Harry was driven over the edge and felt the most excruciating, delightful, blissful moment of all for the past four years since his lovers death: release.

He came into his underwear, feeling the wetness seep into the material and touch lightly against his thighs. He gripped the wondrous body above him which arched, hands splayed across his chest, head tilted far back, Ginny's face was hidden in darkness.

Then, a cackle rose high in the room, bouncing off the walls with a shrill voice. A voice that would never be forgotten in Harry's memories.

Ginny's face came back into view, no longer Ginny, replaced by none other than Bellatrix Lestrange herself. Her menacing grin of black teeth and haunting murderous eyes bore into him, into his soul, hands wrenching his shirt open, leaving him exposed from waist up.

Harry struggled, yelping, desperately pushing away, but she would not budge. Hands came down on his, gripping them above his head as she held his eyes, head lowering, tongue flicking out to lick a circle in the middle of his chest.

He squirmed anew, breaking their eye contact, screaming now, for Ron, Hermione, Ginny, even at one point hearing himself cry out for Snape. But, it was all too late. Bellatrix lifted her head, her teeth now hideously overgrown, sharp, and she plunged straight into Harry's chest, ripping out his heart. His screams echoed long and wide, crying out for anyone or anything to save him.

* * *

><p>A hand came down on his cheek, warm and welcoming, guiding him back into reality. Harry snapped his eyes open, his breathing irregular, his heart, still within his chest, hammered against its cage dangerously close to shattering.<p>

"Harry. Harry. Sshhh, it's ok. Ssshh." He gripped the hand close to his face, body shuddering. His eyes closed, feeling comfort in it, then completely divulged himself in the embrace that soon after wrapped around him.

Ginny's voice soothed him over and over again. Hands smoothed back his fringe, head in her lap, tracing gentle circles on his forehead. Harry curled into her hold, gripping her hands, afraid they would let them go.

Wetness squelched between his legs, and the sickening thought of his dream made present again, and he was up, running into the boy's dormitory, bursting into the washroom and releasing what little dinner he managed to eat.

The Boy Who Lived collapsed against the toilet, crying, kicking at the door, hitting himself in the head. He, Harry James Potter, just had a sex dream with Bellatrix Lestrange. And she had done gone rip out his heart and ate it.

Harry hurriedly scrubbed himself in the shower until he was raw, rinsing his mouth until there was nothing but mouthwash taste. After a good two hours of sanitizing himself back to normal, or as normal as he could make it, he made his way back down, surprised to see Ginerva still there, sitting on the couch, feet up, knees drawn in wrapped with her arms.

Approaching with caution, he shrugged off his jacket and slowly draped it over her shoulders. She looked up, worry etched into that pretty face. Harry gulped down bile, feeling the need to throw up again. "Hey," he croaked.

Her lips twitched. "Hey."

Harry slid next to her, arm slipping around her, bringing that much needed warmth into his hold.

They stayed that way, none feeling the need to sleep until sun began to filter through the windows and the first sounds of fellow Gryffindors waking up. Ginny kissed Harry on the cheek, analyzed him with those soft brown eyes, smiled, and headed off just as Hermione came down the girls dormitory stairs.

Harry heard them exchange a few words, catching Ginny's, "Gonna skip breakfast. I'll see you later, though." The ache in his heart reacted.

Bushy hair came into his vision and Harry slouched, head lolling onto the back of the couch.

"All right, Harry?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment.

"All right. Going to breakfast then?"

He shook his head.

"Ah. Well, I'll see you later, then."

He nodded, not really knowing, not really caring either, if Hermione saw or not, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as the portrait opened and closed rather sharply.

_Great. She's in one of those moods again._

Harry remained in his bed for the majority of the morning, laying down and staring at the top of his four-poster bed. Sleep remained a good distance away. He began thinking of his children; his trouble-making James, his innocent Albus, and little Lily. Beautiful Lily, hardly even breaking into the age of 1.

Harry rolled onto his side, tucking his hands under his head, staring out at the window in the curved position he had himself in. The sun was bright and welcoming, telling little ones to come out and play.

_I wonder if they are…_

Small teardrops formed on the edges of his eyes, glittering. Stubborn just like their mast, they refused to fall, their weight remaining on the edge of his nose. Closing his eyes, the weight finally drifted away, down to the side of his face.

He recalled what he had once said to his dead mother in his dream. _**"I'm going to use this life you gave me and protect them all, save them all…die…" **_And it dawned on him.

Eyes snapped open, and Harry sat up, feeling a new sensation stow about him.

_Yes. I'll do just that._

With all his Gryffindor glory, Harry James Potter knew what he was going to do. A grin slowly crept on his face, eyes sparkling with a certain vengeance. The sun gleamed happily on his face.

_After all, what's the worse that could happen? Me dying? _

Harry laughed. Laughed and laughed. Him dying? That would be just fine. After he got rid of all those damn horcruxes again.

_First stop, Dumbledore's office. _

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><p><strong><em>A~N:<em>**Working on next chapter now. Hopefully will be able to get it up soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and certain other elements of the Potterverse does not belong to me. TT_TT**

It is finally up. And sad to say, it is rather short. A bit more of a progress, though, in the storyline.

=I've also noticed that somehow my titles no longer make it out to the final pages, so, I will leave it at that. No titles for the rest of the way.=

* * *

><p>Severus Snape strolled alongside the Headmaster, both men's cloaks swishing lightly against the ground they passed. A small wind kicked up now and then, making their cloaks rise up briefly in that momentary whisk. Their boots clicked in time, Snape keeping his stride equal to that of Albus'.<p>

They had Apparated into a desolate street some ways behind them amongst rows of abandoned houses. There was no life anywhere to be seen in this place. No green grass. No stray basketballs or dolls. No lights. Nothing.

Nothing. Silence. An eerie silence of dread and suspicion. Snape began to regret coming along.

However, Dumbledore pushed on, knowing exactly where he was headed. The man always did. This was something Snape found himself admiring the man for.

The more houses they passed, the darker it seemed to get, and colder. Potions Professor wrapped his arms in his cloak, crossing them across his chest. Albus did not pause. No matter how old the man, he could outrun a teenager if he wanted to.

Suddenly, he stopped, Snape nearly colliding into him. Black eyes rose up from the asphalt and grew wide at the sight. "Albus-"

"Yes, Severus."

"But- how? This is not-" Snape spun around, searching the landscape again. No. Nothing was familiar. The houses remained black, and the street lay in silence. He rounded on Albus, confusion and disbelief etched into every shadow on his face.

Dumbledore held their eyes, then turned his focus on the run-down house before them. "A simple stroll, Severus, as I normally do on days when I need to think. I found a liking to this place a few months ago, as you can see to why."

Snape took in the quiet and solitude.

"A perfect place, I should say, for one with much thinking to do," the Headmaster continued, adjusting his position, hands behind his back, neck slightly inclined, looking up at the house. "It was not here last week."

Severus slowly looked up to the foreboding memory of so long ago. His arms dropped to his sides. "Is this some kind of trickery?"

"No, my boy," came Dumbledore's soft reply. "I regret to say, this house no longer resides in Godric's Hollow."

The dark, run-down form stood amongst wild brushes and brambles, tall weeds forming around the sides and nearly swallowing the windows whole. The house chipped away slowly with each passing breeze, the sound of emptiness echoing in the wind.

Snape felt a tug on his heart, pulling him to check inside. But, as the many times before, there would be nothing there except for shattered glass, weeds poking from the floorboards, toys burnt to a crisp, and a broken crib with age-old sheets laying within.

_No Lily. _

"How-"

Dumbledore cleared his throat, a crinkling sound made evident into the silence. Snape turned just in time to see the elder man pop something into his mouth. One of those Muggle sweets, he gathered. Placing the empty wrapped into the pocket of his robes, Dumbledore spoke.

"I have only guesses. However, Harry is most likely the reason. Shall we go inside?" The old man dared to open his arm in invitation. He should know how much he despised coming here despite the many visits he gave it.

Snape stared at the Potter house, feeling guilt and hate reside within him at the same time. Breathing in sharply, he strode forward, briskly walking up the stone steps and turning the knob.

He paused, Dumbledore behind him. Slowly, he pushed the door open and the sound of wood cracking and peeling away met their ears as the door swung. Gingerly, Snape took a step. The floorboards groaned, dirt and rocks grinding under his boots.

A light illuminated behind him and he pressed forward, inching inside enough so that Dumbledore had room to come in. The lit wand pierced through the darkness, bringing Snape to take out his and do the illumination charm as well.

His Headmaster walked pass him, the wood craning and moaning, dangerously to the limit of caving beneath them. Dust swarm around them, at times engulfing so much air Severus had to wave his wand to disperse the clouds.

They climbed the old, worn, rickety stairs. Snape had to keep reminding himself he would not find Lily's dead body above them. There would be no crying baby. Nothing. There would be nothing.

They were at the top, standing before a long hallway. Dumbledore kept his voice low, afraid that a small tremor may upset the house. "Stick close, my boy. I would not want you wandering…"

Snape knew what that meant.

_Wandering into my thoughts and getting lost, as you normally always did when you came here. Damn the old git for knowing him this much._

"Come." And the professor followed, nostalgia yanking at his heart. His feet knew this trail, this agonizing walk towards that room. Why were they here?

_No, more importantly, why was this house here in the middle of nowhere? How? When? Where is this place?_

So many unanswered questions, and the beginning to know them all resided in one person: Harry James _fucking _Potter. He groaned aloud, his free hand swiping at the sweat forming on his forehead. The air was thick and humid, dirty and ragged. Snape waved his wand again to clean what air he could.

And they were there, standing before the open door with their wands pointing forward to flood the room with light.

For the second time that night, Severus Snape felt his knees buckle and heart fall into the pit of his stomach. "Take a deep breath, Severus, my boy," Dumbledore instructed, a hand lightly grasping each shoulder in turn, steering the Potions Professor into the obstructed room.

Everything was the same. The burned crib and sheets, the decaying toys. Everything. Except for one.

"Is that-?" Severus managed to whisper, voice lost in denial.

Gravely, Dumbledore nodded, a cascade of silvery hair blocking his face from Snape's view.

There, in the middle, stood a golden hourglass, shimmering blue sand that filled more than halfway on the top dripped agonizingly slow. It stood just above the men's kneecaps, easy to pick up, though neither did. Neither even thought of touching the object.

Snape gaped at the hourglass, immediately taking in the embroidered signet so small that normally people would overlook it. Though, having seen this object before, only in picture form, Snape found it rather easily.

Encrusted was a circle with a line through it and a triangle entrapping both shapes. "The Hourglass of Borrowed Time," Dumbledore answered Severus' already knowing mind. "Or, as we most likely know it, the Deathly Hallow that never was. Deaths-"

"-own toy," Snape finished, one foot retreating, the sand making the softest of noise as it fell gracefully to the bottom. "The boy-"

"It is most likely him it is bound to." Albus paused, a tongue jutting out to wet parched and dusted lips. Snape sighed.

"I, at first, did not enter here, thinking dark magic was afoot. However," the old wizard stalked around the object, grey eyes never leaving the falling sand. "After a few roundabouts and analyzing, there were no charms or shields protecting this place. Nothing."

Snape adjusted his posture, lowing his wand to his side, feeling his elbows ache at holding it up for so long. Dumbledore continued his walk and speech. "Peculiar. Very much so. So, I took a step inside. Once again, nothing." He stopped behind the hourglass so that Snape and himself were on opposite sides.

"And then, I came upon this."

Snape rose his dark eyes, glimpsing greys with anxiety. "This house had been here since Harry's amazing ability to root out Crouch in the form of Alastor. Never before. However, just last night the Hourglass made an appearance."

Severus stood quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. The sand continued its decent into its small pile below, blue sparkling, a small glimpse of green reflecting here and there. "You only bring this up to me now?"

A quiet sigh drifted in the room. "Yes."

Snape nodded. "So, what you are saying is that the _boy _has tampered with this?"

"Tampered, no. It made a calling, I would gather," Dumbledore spoke with seriousness. "Called Harry to it in his time of need."

"In _his_ time, no less?"

"Precisely. And it has followed him here, stowing itself where Harry's heart and fears collide. The birthplace of the beginning of loss." Albus lowered his wand as well, feeling the ache in his elbow reaching his shoulder.

Potions Master and Headmaster fixed their eyes for a few more seconds, watching the sand. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into an hour. None moved, immobilized by the tinkling of the grains. Finally, when Snape's eyes began to water, he pulled himself away, finding greys staring back at him with a worn and tired look.

"So what now?" came the expected question, Severus dousing out his wand light leaving only Dumbledore's to keep them out from darkness.

The older male gave a small smile, forced. "It is bound to him in a contract, Severus. You should know this." Snape dropped his gaze to the floorboards. "We can only wait and see if he accomplishes what the Hourglass wants him to do."

Snape swallowed a lump in his throat, the pit of his stomach lurching. The scene from Harry's mind replayed itself in his head again; where he had been dying, his very own blood pooling around his black-covered form, Harry Potter above him, green eyes holding his.

What if the boy managed to save him, if he was to die at all? Though, seeing the way things were going now, it could be possible his death awaited in just a few years. He spoke, louder than needed. "And what of the Dark Lord?"

Dumbledore paused, his eyes falling between the Hourglass and Severus. "I do not know where he resides. Only you would know, my boy." Grey eyes flittered back onto blacks, brows rising, then dropping his gaze to the Potions Master's left arm.

Snape, on instinct, grabbed his arm as if to block it from view, lips thinning. He had during the course of the year felt a pull from the branded tattoo of his, though he feigned importance of it much to a certain Durmstrang Headmaster's dismay. It was not strong enough yet to put fear in his life.

Dumbledore nodded then, once again placing his stare on the hourglass, tongue clicking. "Lily's boy is proving to be more troublesome than ever."

"He does have _James Potter's _blood within him," Snape retorted, spitting out the name like some foul bile in the back of his throat. Dumbledore chuckled, grey orbs relighting with its twinkle.

"Yes, yes, that he does. But," he lifted his eyes to Snape, the twinkle never fading. "He bears his mother's way to sacrifice himself better than anything else. I would like to admit he resembles more of Lily than James."

Severus stiffened. "Albus," he dropped his voice low and dangerous.

Headmaster only shook his head, bringing both hands behind his back and _nox_ing his wand, the only light illuminating the room coming from the glowing Hourglass before them and the shimmering sand. It would have been a beautiful sight to behold were it not for the situations it held for the future.

"It is only my opinion, my boy. Now," Albus took a deep breath, bringing it out slowly. "I do believe it is time to put your sole focus on Harry." Dumbledore ignored the roll of the male's eyes. "More than ever. I will be away for some time. He will only have you to depend on."

Grey eyes peered intently over half-moon spectacles and Severus looked away, not wanting to be pulled into that forceful stare. "Or he will only have me to run down."

A light chuckle filled the room. "I am sure you can keep a hold on a fourteen year old."

"You forget," Snape retorted. "He is no longer fourteen."

The Headmaster sighed, once again worn down. "Let us hope that he still thinks like one, then."

* * *

><p>The servant bided his time, twitching now and then with nervousness and unease, feet pacing back and forth in front of the broken four-poster bed. What if it didn't work? Then the Dark Lord would have his hide… and more. Wormtail shuddered, hugging his cloak closer around him.<p>

He hated this place, but he needed to be here, needed to be as close as possible to that wretched brat. There were many possibilities of how he could approach The Boy Who Lived, but many of them involved getting caught. He could not allow that.

One thing Peter Pettigrew hated the most was being on the receiving end of torture and hate. He wanted to be loved and protected, fear always surrounding him. Especially now that the Dark Lord was back and needing assistance.

More than once, Pettigrew wanted to run away, but that would most definitely have him dead when the Dark Lord came back in full form without his help. No, he could not have not. So, now, he was stuck trying to find a way to bring that blasted Potter into his arms again and drain him of his blood.

_If only luck would grant me this one need._

An answering click made Peter Pettigrew's heart grow alight with fear and triumph.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore had not come back yet. Neither had Snape. Good. All the better.<p>

Harry was now reaching desperately for the Sorting Hat which sat high on a shelf. Grunting, he pulled out his wand and _accio_ed it, not surprised when it refused to budge from its pedestal. Hurrying, he grabbed a chair and made a reach for it again. This time, his fingers brushed the edges and he whipped it off.

The Hat moved as if stretching its limbs, the ruffled edges waving about. "Nnngh," it groaned, the wrinkles folded in the Hat moving in time with the sound. "Aaah~…it is you, young Gryffindor. Oh? What have we here? Not so young, now are we?"

Harry pursed his lips, eyes growing wide. "How'd you know?"

The Hat laughed, a rusty sound, aged. "I am sure, Mr. Potter, I am not the only one that suspects." The seams slanted into a sly smile. "You cannot belie the old and wizened nor the past and gone."

A lightbulb clicked in Harry's head. "Ghosts! They can tell, too?" The Hat grunted.

It all made sense now: Headless Nick, even Peeves when he had strolled through corridors in the dungeons sang him his unjust doings, calling him wicked even. And his mother. His dearest mother who kept visiting his dreams.

They were just spirits, though. Right?

"Hrmmm. You are a very troubled boy. But, as the Muggles say, 'things happen for a reason'."

"Yeah. And that's why this is happening. For a reason. A damn good one, too," Harry retorted, feeling anger boil in himself. The Hat had no right to judge him on that. He knew what he was doing was bad, but didn't need a reminder everywhere he turned. He had enough whenever his eyes closed.

The Hat snorted. "And you are here now for the sword, yes?"

Harry's hands gripped the Hat's edges, his breath stilling. Slowly, he nodded. "Yes."

The Hat gave a long sigh, its tip slouching. "You will probably die."

"I know that."

"You are willing to sacrifice everything?"

Harry was about to answer 'yes', though caught himself before doing so. "No. Not everything. Just me."

The Hat grew silent, and then it stopped moving altogether. Something long and silvery fell from inside the Hat and landed square on Harry's foot, falling onto the ground with a sounding thud. Wincing, he seethed through his teeth, green eyes dropping to the floor to see what he had been wanting all along.

Brave, loyal, courageous, and prominent, Godric Gryffindor's sword lay before him, glinting in the candlelight. Harry bent down and picked it up by it's hilt, the blade pointed out in front of him. Looking back at the Hat, the boy whispered a thanks and placed it back to its home, a small quiver of acknowledgement running in the edges.

Harry bolted from the office then, his knapsack waiting for him by the Gargoyle which watched him with unmoving eyes disappear around the corner. He ran out onto the grounds, threw his treasured invisibility cloak over himself, and made his way to the Whomping Willow, deactivated its movements, and slithered his way into the hole, flying down the dark pathway only lit by his wand.

He clambered out of the trapdoor, wriggling himself out, propping himself on the edge, then abruptly stopped, finding a wand pointed straight at his nose. "Playing hooky, are we now, Potter?"Before he could react, his wand was kicked out of his hand and a _stupefy _sent him into a dark world.

He did not see that same form fall shortly afterwards. He did not feel strong arms pick him up. He did not feel the light brush of his hair so that his scar was revealed.

Harry did not hear the whispered words of a man, breathing against his forehead. "Just like your father."

* * *

><p>Severus Disapparated into Hogsmeade, leaving a very disgruntled Albus Dumbledore in the company of the Hourglass of Borrowed Time. Their fascinated stares in silence at the object had been abruptly interrupted by a silvery, wispy penguin which proceeded to squawk in Dumbledore's ears.<p>

Snape only nodded when Dumbledore made a face which clearly suggested the man leave now, the penguin being the very Patronus of the Minister of Magic. Bartimus Crouch did not need to know why two professors of Hogwarts were out of grounds and talking in an area where darkness crawled in every corner.

It was a good thing that Patronuses only seeked out the person it needed, not map out where it had been. Of course, if the owner wanted to, they could find out very easily. However, there was hardly any doubt that the Minister would likely feel the need to know the whereabouts of Albus Dumbledore. He could simply be at home, for all he cared.

Snape raised his wand, casually flicking it so that the gate grated open, the sound echoing loudly in the dawning presence of the quiet, dew morning. The glow of the sun just peeking over the horizon sent glorious rays of soft pink and creamy orange, purple clouds riding along the distance.

The warmth of the big star comfortably nestled on Snape's back, which had grown quite cold during his visit in that God-forsaken place. He welcomed the heat which now spread onto his arms and cheeks. It quickly disappeared, though, as he entered into the castle, making way immediately to his study.

Snape was just about to round a corner when he heard feet pounding the ground in a rapid speed. He pushed himself against the wall just in time to see a bustled Harry Potter fly past him, not knowing black eyes trailed his retreating form, one brow rising.

* * *

><p>The world tipped uneasily, making Harry feel the need to spill whatever contents he had left in his stomach onto the floor. He clenched the side of the bed with both hands, pulling himself closer to the edge, searching for a trash bin. When none was found, he retreated back under the covers, determined to keep his food down.<p>

He was staring at the ceiling of one of the most visited places in his life: the Hospital Wing. Harry had yet to figure out how he had gotten there and much more. Wormtail came and fell from his memories, his trek to the Shrieking Shack not much to dote on.

However, he could not figure out why Wormtail was there in the first place. Was he seriously thinking of taking on Harry Potter on his own? Did he know that he would be there? Was Voldemort infiltrating his mind now, doing what Harry had done in the past and track him down via mind-connecting?

That wouldn't be a surprise.

And then, of course, came the question of the day: how the hell did he end up back in Hogwarts? He was sure when he had first woken up, pain would be inviting him back to reality. When that was not the case, instead a very pestering and rustled-up Pomfrey came into vision, poking and prodding him with her wand, telling him he should just live in here, Harry fought the urge to push the bustling woman away.

The sun had long since dipped back behind the mountains, night slowly taking over. The candles lit by themselves as shadows danced into the nursery. Harry laid in his pajamas with both hands behind his head, glasses off on the bedside table, blanket carelessly thrown on, and his ankle overlapping the other.

Hermione and Ron had come in for a brief visit while he was unconscious in the early morning when Snape had told them he had an accident on the Quidditch field from practicing in the morning. Madam Pomfrey had been the one to tell him while she was doing her analysis on his perfectly fine self. Of course, she being one to worry, insisted he stay one night with a dose of Dreamless Sleep.

"Helps you rest better, dear," she explained, Harry downing the contents in one go. He knew much about this potion as he had once been addicted to it, his thoughts about his past echoing every waking thought, and dream. Hermione and Ron helped him out of taking too much to not taking any at all, stating that he had children to take care of, and suddenly falling asleep on the dinner table without any warning would not make things better.

That had been just a few moments ago, and the potion had yet to work its way into his mind and shut him down for the night. It was probably taking a long time due to his enormous intake from before.

_Should be fine with this body, though, right?_

Sighing, Harry closed his eyes, finding the need to calm his mind. At least he would not have to worry about dreaming of anything tonight.

The world nearly slipped away before a clicking sound arose Harry back into wakeville. The sound of the door sliding back into place made him sit up on his elbows and peer into the shadows near the entrance, eyes dooping in restraint.

Footfalls began shortly after, the echoing _clicks _of hard soles rapping the marble flooring, making its way down between the beds towards him. Harry reached for his glasses in a hurried manner, practically smashing them on his face just in time to see a dark, looming form stop at the foot of his bed. A familiar sneer snaked its way across thin, pale lips.

"Awake, are we, Mr. Potter?" the snide remark rolled across a bitter tongue, arms folding across a broad chest, robes rustling in his movements.

The Gryffindor adjusted his glasses, eyes fixated on the professor before him. "I was about to fall asleep, 'til you came in."

Harry caught a flicker of amusement and mockery in the black eyes of Snape. Thin lips quirked slightly higher, the sneer becoming more of a fascinated smirk.

"Pity. Perhaps I should have come at a better time, however, I am sorry to say, Potter, I do not care about luxuries such as sleep and bed wrinkling." Harry fisted the sheets, lips drawing in.

_Bed wrinkling? Really?_

"However," Snape continued in that spiteful tone, "I can overlook your incompetence if you explain as to why you left Hogwarts grounds early this morning with a knapsack and your invisibility cloak."

Harry's head spun. Of all people to catch him, Snape had to be it. And now the potion was taking a toll on his wearied body and mind.

_Brilliant. Bloody great fucking time, damn potion._

Despite all that, Harry been damn sure no one was around. He had checked and double-checked the Marauder's Map before running off to the Shrieking Shack, noting that he should have also checked to make sure no one was in the bloody place.

Running a hand through his hair, Harry managed to lift his eyes and stare determined into dark ones. They were unwavering, concrete, and annoyed. Harry would not be able to lie himself out of this one. "Why not just _legilimens _me and get it over with, then? It'd be much faster. Maybe more to your enjoyment, even," the green-eyed boy retorted, being fed-up at getting caught so many times by the damn bat-bloke.

And also because sleep was weighing heavy on him. A bad mix.

Snape pursed his lips, glaring daggers, and the boy did likewise, though with a much tired look in his eyes, and his breath was fast becoming ragged and uncontrolled. Potions Master noted this as a sign of a certain draught, eyes catching the glimpse of a small bottle on the bedside table.

_Of course. Should have known Poppy would give the boy something to knock him out, and stay knocked out a good while. _

Grunting in disapproval, but seeing the droopy-eyed Potter do his damnest to keep the glare on, Snape decided to leave the boy be and come back when it _would be _a better time. Perhaps in the morning.

He dropped his arms to the sides, wand in hand flicking in Harry's direction. The boy's body flung back onto the bed, head colliding rather harshly with the backboard earning a surprised groan, and the white sheets fitted themselves snuggly around the moaning form.

"Sleep, Potter. You are no use for me under the potion's spell." Harry made a noise in response, something akin to a curse. Snape disregarded it, pocketing his wand and turning on his heel to head out. "I will be back in the morning. There had better be an explanation ready without any delay."

And he was out the door, the sound of it closing bringing immediate peace to Harry's nerves, the Dreamless Sleep taking effect faster as there was no reason for Harry to stay awake now.

_Until tomorrow._

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><p><strong>A~N:<strong> I want to personally thank _Puzzle Me This _for encouraging me into continuing with this piece. Thank you~ ;D

And to others who have found interest in this story as well, THANK YOU!

Mucho love~ Nyte


	9. Chapter 9

It's finally up. A million and one apololigies and whatnots. I could place here a thousand excuses starting with "holidays are a sheer nuisance" however, that just wouldn't be right. Thank you for everyone who has favorited/alerted this story thus far. I will be updating several times within this month for the sake of being forgiven. ;[ Also, this chapter is a wee bit short, simply because I need to space out all the events. Don't want them all in one...

**DISCLAIMER: Do. Not. Own. Harry. Potter. **+and do not get paid for writing this story, like how Jo had+ 3JO!

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><p>Peter Pettigrew cried out in horror, his lungs reaching the utmost capacity of screaming out the pain and torture placed on him. Writhing, twitching, gurgling nonsensical pleas, bright eyes dulling behind uncontrollable tears. Voldemort smiled at his work. He watched pleasurably at the beautiful sight of control and power, of what his servant deserved.<p>

"You've failed me again, Wormtail," the Dark Lord hissed menacingly, each word grating more pain into the ever-moving form splayed out on the carpet before him. "You. Have. FAILED!" Wormtail unleashed his most high-pitched scream of the night, echoing off the warded walls and bouncing delightfully about the Master's body.

The lump of a body arched its back wrenchingly high, neck craned, wrists twisted in some impossible manner. "P-p-p-pl..M-mmmm-master…ple..se.." Wormtail whispered with a dry and sobbing throat, eyes squeezed tight against the onslaught.

"Why, Wormtail? Tell me, why should I stop?" Voldemort inquired with great curiosity, his huge, snake-like eyes probing the thrashing form which continued its mumbles of release from such monstrosity, a small grey head tilting in an innocent manner. Wormtail began to open his mouth to answer, knowing that there would be far more than just the _cruciatus _to deal with if he disobeyed his Master.

Pettigrew yelped as his body was suddenly flung onto the opposing wall, body splayed out as if he were placed on a target board. Voldemort held his finger in the air, flicking it once. The servant's head slammed against the wall with a sounding thud. A whimper escaped the small man's throat, eyes screwed tight.

"You have wasssted _enough _of my time. I should disspose of you, however-" the Dark Lord slowly dropped his index finger, the body following suit, grating against the loose wood as it drew closer to the ground. The servant whined and sputtered illogical begging, splinters lodging themselves beneath the flesh on his arms and hands, some spiking through his robes on his back.

"I understand that the tasksss I have given you, and you alone, have been much too complicated for a low endowed brain such as yourss. In that case, I will give you _another _chance." The body hit the ground, and the magic rolled off of Wormtail, leaving him gasping for breath and claw at the heavenly wooden floors. "For, of courssse, I am very forgiving to thosssse who will follow me, Wormtail."

"Th-thank thank you, Master. Please, M-Master-"

"Sssshhh, my dear sssservant," a tiny hand reached forward, beckoning the man to him. Pettigrew approached warily, eyes casting everywhere but at the red eyes that now held fast to his moving form. "Yesss, come to me. Aaah~"

Cold, deadly fingers made way into gold, gray locks and gripped. Wormtail whimpered, his face contorting into the frightened rat that he was. The hold relaxed, slightly. "Bring me Sssseverussss, Wormtail."

The rat shook uncontrollably, eyes quivering in their sockets. "Wh-what? S-Sn-Snape, my Lord?" That was utterly incredulous! Why Snape of all people! The man had probably moved on without wanting to be in the Dark Lord's presence anymore!

The fingers threaded themselves into what hair was left on the man's head. "Yesssss," the voice hissed in a tone of one who dearly missed his lover. "I need him now. Bring him to me, Wormtail, and do not return until he is with you, do you understand?"

The hand dropped to tap the rat's head up, red locking with dulling blues. "Go," the thin lips ordered, Wormtail practically fleeing off of his knees and running down the stairs, across the wide dining hall and out the doors, Disapparating on the spot into Hogsmeade.

Voldemort curled more into his chair, his ever distant mind seeking solace on believing his beloved servant would come for him any moment now, to save him, to accompany him. The Potions Master, after all, had been his most faithful, his most _treasured._

"Severusssssssss."

Sitting on a chair in a dark classroom, a dark form hunched over his desk from grading seventh years' preposterous excuses of essays for their N.E. shot his head up as the searing throbbing sensation of being called thrummed through his left arm.

The black-robed Potions Master was out of his chair in the next instant, flying across the stairs like his given nickname, robes bursting behind him in a wondrous display of a bat.

* * *

><p>Snape flung the door to the infirmary, his breath nearly spent as he crossed the long rows of beds until he reached the very one he had intended. His sigh of relief flooded the aching suspicion in his mind as well as his hammering heart. The boy was safe.<p>

So safe, Snape felt his sneer crawl on his lips, that the foolish boy had somehow tangled himself in the sheets and now laid spread-eagled across the bed, one arm hanging off the edge along with its pair of a leg, another arm bent with a hand lifting up the boy's pajama top to expose a slip of lightly tanned skin. In the candlelight, sheer gold.

_Versatile wrench._

The throbbing commenced. Snape doubled over at the immense pain coursing through his veins, following up through his arm and now shoulder. It would only get worse if he did not heed the call.

_But, where was he to go? Dammit, it all. Why did Dumbledore have to leave now? Foolish old man!_

Scrambling into one of the chairs that would magically conjure itself to visitors, Snape panted heavily. Groaning, the sound in the silence echoing, he slacked his body, head lolling onto the back of the chair to stair upwards at the tall, bare, beige-colored ceiling which angled to a tip. He focused his hearing on the boy's soft breathing, picturing how peaceful the prat could actually be when knocked out. This thought caused a slight twitch at the edges of his lips.

His elbows rested gently against the armrests, hands knotted within his lap. His thoughts were currently on the boy who laid in the bed before him. Potter had somehow become much more of a pain in the ass than ever before.

The damn insufferable dunderhead had penetrated into his thoughts the night before, and literally _seeked _out a specific thought chain in Snape's memories. Snape had felt the pull of an actual practiced Legilimens as Harry barged into his mind.

_The boy had wanted to be an Auror. What if he had become one?_

Snape dropped his head to look at the contented sleeper, glasses askew on a small, cropped nose, hair a mess with a small glimpse of the scar peering through his fringe. Staring too long, Snape found it disgustingly…revolting.

_James in the flesh, scarred by the Dark Lord._

The hatred seared within him, his hands itching to grab at the wand just hidden in his sleeves. And then, a flash of pain from his left arm had him stilling in both his thoughts and breathing, and a certain scampering sound of feet darting across marble floor.

_No. It couldn't be._

Snape sat up straight, eyes frantically searching the room around him. The candles continued their flickering dance of shadows against the walls, the room quiet and suddenly chilled. The warming charm which normally remained until the dawning of the sun had somehow dissipated.

Slowly, Snape took out his wand and lit the end, the harsh reminder of his arm tingling giving thought all was not well. A voice shrilled loudly, piercing the professor's eardrums. He spun around in place, wand light landing on the boy who was writhing and screaming, the sheets tangling themselves moreso around the form, glasses flown off completely to the ground with a clatter.

There was a bang down the hall and a shuffle of feet. Again, Snape spun on his heel to see a small form fly down the hall, the face of a much disturbed Madam Pomfrey lighting up as she neared to them. She stopped just by Harry's feet, worry and confusion written in the shadows on her face as one hand ghosted over the boy's ankles, the other holding her wand.

Harry continued his blubberings, tears evident on his lashes, falling off to the sides of his face.

"What's going on?"

Severus turned to the nurse who glared at him, prompting him the suspect. He snorted, turned his own glare fierce and hard. "Do not even THINK I have anything to do with this. I was merely…" He stopped himself. _Making sure the Dark Lord hadn't killed him yet? Just watching him sleep? _Instead, Snape indicated the boy.

"Albus had told me to keep an eye on him. Make sure he does not get any other rash decisions of going to the Quidditch pitch." _Safe choice. _"I came just before he started rampaging like a madman. Did you not give him Dreamless Potion, Poppy?" Snape had rounded the bed and now stooped over the thrashing body, brows wrinkling. He hesitantly placed a hand on the boy's shoulder to attempt to stop the movements, if only but a small bit.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course. The boy'd be bent on getting up if I hadn't. This Potter is nothing short of his father." Snape stiffened, watching the woman hasten to the opposite side of the Gryffindor and wave her wand about him. "I thought it Minerva's job to keep this child in place, not yours," she observed, a questioning brow raising high into her locks. Suddenly, Harry whimpered, neck craning, fists balling, toes curling, eyes screwed shut handing Snape yet another safety net to fall into.

"Sev'rus…"

The name that rolled of his lips stunned the both of them in place, Poppy moments away from shocking the boy back to Earth stilling the process with wand in mid-wave, the unfinished enchantment leaving a trail of wispy white in the air. Snape felt his eyes grow wide and jaw slacken, heart raging against such an unforeseen event.

Harry Potter had spoken his name. Not just any name. Harry Potter had whispered his given name with such…feeling, not anything like hate. Before the Potions Master could register enough of the scene taken place, the boy lunged forward and grabbed Snape from the collar, green eyes snapping open to entrap obsidians, a pleading call behind the glare.

"Don't. Do. That."

The tears that fell from those fierce emeralds made it hard for Snape to push away, but push away he did, the boy's eyes lidding and falling back into the bed almost instantly.

"Well," came Poppy's voice from Snape's side after a long while, disturbing the silence. Snape stood rooted to the floor, eyes glued to the lapse form on the bed. "Uhm, right, then. I guess we should wake him up-"

"No," Snape intervened, grabbing the nurse's wrist lightly, but firmly. He held her eyes which sparked with suspicion and dropped her gaze to his hand on her wrist. He let go in an instant, clearing his throat, nervous suddenly for an unknown reason.

"No," Snape tried again. "Let the boy rest. The worst seems to be over, after all." Harry snoring lightly away without any inclination that he had an outburst just moments ago gave Poppy enough to nod and agree with a soft 'hmph' before looking back up at Severus.

Her lips curled into a soft, benign smile. Snape was taken aback. "You should get some rest, too, dear. You look right ghastly, pale as a ghost I might say." She chuckled and shook her head, masses of grey sweeping across her shoulders.

"All right," the medi-witch flicked her wand in the air, administering the warming charm again before bidding another goodnight, sweeping one last check-up on the boy and placing his fallen frames on the bedside table before disappearing behind her doors again.

After a few long moments, Snape finally sat down, exhausted more than ever. He trained his eyes on the boy, the scene of Potter's frantic name-calling and pounce replaying over and over in his mind.

* * *

><p>As the body hit the side of the glass, the echoing sound of it gliding down onto the ground, Harry fought the urge to pound ferociously at the wall, tears already glistening at the edges of his lashes. He had been too late, but if he revealed himself now, the Dark Lord would end his life then and there. He couldn't risk that. No, not when Snape was the very one giving his life up…<p>

_For him…again…It was fucking happening again! A FUCKING SECOND TIME!_

Harry cursed himself over and over, holding back a sob. Ron placed a hand on his shoulder, Hermione laying her hand on his. This helped Harry to control himself better. If he lost it then, they would be lost as well.

After what seemed like hours, Voldemort walked away with Nagini, the slurping, sloshing sounds of its wet body scurrying after her master. Harry bolted up and ran through the entrance at the cracking sound of Apparition, spending no time to land on his knees hard, ignoring the pain, grabbing out the vial Snape had given to him. He uncorked it, trying his damn best to not stare hard at the oozing blood formulating around the form.

The man's pale complexion was covered with sweat and thick, crimson liquid. His obsidian eyes were fading, fading from life. Harry shook as he tipped the vial over his professor's mouth, sputtering as his hand shook. Snape couldn't move too much, so gargled as much as he could, choking when the liquid didn't enter into his throat properly.

Harry pulled away, ripping off his shirt and applying pressure to the main wound on the man's neck. "Don't…Don't move." Snape would have rolled his eyes if he could, but watching the boy fret with those green orbs, he could not help himself but to watch, gulping away the bile-tasting potion in his mouth.

The brat had been right. Voldemort was intent on killing him, seeing as he was the one who killed Dumbledore. And the brat was crying now, mixed in with apologies and mindless blabberings. Something about how he wished he could have been there earlier. Snape's lips twitched upward. Harry looked up in time to see it, brows bunched in agony, emerald eyes spilling emotions Snape had only dared wish to come from the boy's mother.

"The…inca…n..tation…I show…I showed you…earlier.." the Potions Master wheezed, choking, the taste of blood filling his mouth. Harry whipped out his wand instantly, knowing exactly what to do. Snape rose a hand slowly onto Harry's wand, bewildered greens staring at blacks.

"I-If y-I-If I …don't…" Harry interrupted by shoving the hand away and immediately began the slow chanting, murmuring the phrases over and over, wand glazing over the black form. His mind was set into concentration, focusing on replenishing the man of his lost blood, and life.

Both of Snape's hands came up this time, catching Harry's own. "It's not…your fault…"

Harry resisted the urge to break down and cry. Tears were already being rebellious to their master, falling one after the other and dropping onto the dying man's robes. "Shut up, Snape.," he gritted out, containing himself. "Shut up and let me do this." He once again removed his hands from the older male, forcing himself to continue with the incantation, reciting word for word what the professor had taught him.

They were simple phrases that repeated until all was back in place, but the words stumbled out like some kind of newborn unable to speak from Harry's quivering lips. "Curare corporis. Sana animum tuum. Sana spiritus tuus."

Snape concentrated on the boy's moving lips, forming the words he taught him, feeling a sense of appraisal to the Potter. The words drifted over his unmoving body, encasing it in a small glow, wrapping its arms warmly into its haven.

"Curare corporis. Sana animum tuum. Sana spiritus tuus." Severus sighed, lids growing heavy from the overfill of peace building within him. Harry stopped abruptly, taking that as a sign of something else.

Green eyes watched as black eyes glazed over and became covered. "Sn-Snape?" Harry whispered, his wand teetering on the edge of his fingertips. He tried again. "Severus?" Black eyes flung open at the sound of the name, narrowing at the Gryffindor boy who, instead of being drawn back by the sudden glare, broke into a pained smile and grabbed the lying man by the scruff of his collar.

"Don't. Do. That." Every word syllabized with a certain heated resentment, not towards the person themselves, but to the actions that were unwanted. Harry did not want Snape to die, and he glared absolute into dark eyes which seemed to understand, a small curve of a supposed smirk creeping along the edge of the professor's lips.

The boy released his hold and began the chanting again, murmuring softly the incantations. Snape continued to watch, black eyes never moving…never moving…always staring. This was making it quite difficult for Harry to finish. He was about to tell him to look in the other direction when he was fiercely grabbed and shaken.

* * *

><p>"Potter, wake up, damn you! Don't you dare- Potter!"<p>

Harry woke, slowly but surely, groaning for the upteenth time as reality closed in around him. The shaking hadn't ceased. "Potter! Look at me!" the low, trembling voice ordered, the hands on his shoulders gripping fiercely, and painfully. He tried to bat away those opposing hands, to no avail.

"LOOK AT ME, I SAID!"

Grumpily and with struggle, Harry obliged, his lids heavy with sleep and fatigue. It was at that moment Harry knew something was wrong. His body wouldn't move, and that blasted searing headache he had never wanted back reminded him of what year he was locked in. The years when Voldemort began his rise again.

Black eyes stared down at him, dark brows furrowed in some sort of worriment. The shaking stopped, though the grip tightened. Harry winced.

"Sn-Snape?"

"Do not move, do you understand me, Potter? Stay awake and Do. Not. Move," came the next order. The boy could only nod, if he done that at all, feeling his body completely lifeless at the moment, eyes closing.

"Potter!"

He snapped them back open, dark eyes glowering into his soul. "I'm up, I'm up," he pushed out, feeling his throat grate in the words, doing his damnest to clear it up. Why did he feel so much like shit right now? It was akin to how he felt after Auror training, breathless and worn, wanting nothing more but to sleep the rest of the day away.

Snape's breathing was ragged and fast, Harry taking in the odd way the older wizard had somehow situated himself on his bed, on him. Snape was towering above him, hands still in a tight grip on his shoulders. Long, lean legs straddled him, leaving Harry himself hardly any room to do anything at all, not that he could anyway.

His head lolled to the side, suddenly feeling uncomfortable at the close proximity of Snape's body against his. Of course, the only body parts that were touching were his thighs against Snape's knees and the man's awful hold on his shoulders.

Black hair curtained his face and he abruptly turned to face an onslaught of emotions in those black eyes of his professor: hurt, betrayal, revenge, envy, sorrow, and what caught Harry off guard… lust.

Before he could register the meaning, thin lips ground against his own, teeth scraping harshly against his bottom lip. Harry moved to push away the contradicting attack, but felt his arms leaden to do any such act. He was weak and the lips that hungrily sucked the air out of him became aggravatingly rougher.

"Mmph-Shto-p! Mmmnnnph!" Harry shouted hoarsely against the inhuman force pinning him down on the bed.

Snape pulled away to whisper faintly in Harry's reddened ear.

"Did you forget that there's a consequence to all of this, Harry Potter?" Not Mister Potter, but Harry Potter. The boy shuddered uncontrollably at his name being said through those lips. Snape sneered. "Nothing ever comes free, Harry Potter. Nothing." Then a long, wet tongue so alien swept along Harry's cheek, leaving saliva tracks from his chin to the edges of his hair on his forehead. There was no way to describe how utterly _disgusted _he felt at that moment.

"It's time to pay your dues," those wretched thin lips grinned evilly, eyes of shimmering blue holding him paralyzed in the bed. Blue, not black. So beautiful, those blue eyes. Sparkling and falling, falling, falling…

Harry suddenly found himself staring at the Hourglass, watching its beautiful contents fall ceremoniously slow to the bottom. He looked around, no longer laying down, but standing in the midst of some strange house. It was then he caught the crib, the side table, the burnt wood and accumulated mass amounts of dust, dirt, and moss.

Harry was back at home in Godric's Hollow. Empty and void, save for the Hourglass and himself.

He turned back to the well-crafted object, green eyes scaling it, then pausing, uncertain at a symbol he had not seen before. His mouth fell slack and his heart hammered against his ribcage. _Oh, shit._

"You are most welcome, my friend. Most welcome, indeed," a raspy, soft voice came from behind him.

Harry spun on his heel to come face-to-face with a dark figure, hiding in the shadows near the doorway. He took a step back, fingers touching the edges of the Hourglass. He could have sworn he felt something on contact, but it had disappeared before it could even be registered.

The figure did not move. "Harry Potter," the airy voice continued, making the air around them shift even colder. "You are a very peculiar young being to be able to coax my lovely into granting your wishes. Peculiar, yes, very."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but found he couldn't. Found that he didn't know what to say. _Lovely? _

An echoing laugh resounded around them. "Yes, yes. My lovely, my lovely." The form stepped forward and Harry had to stifle a gasp and groan of horror.

A skeletal foot had proceeded out of the shredded worn robes of the wearer, the sound of bones crackling and grinding against each other, and Death began to walk towards him.


End file.
